


Obsession

by Prince_of_Elsinore



Series: Obsession [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Albinism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Brother/Brother Incest, Brothers, Guilt, Incest, M/M, Multi, Shame, Sibling Incest, Siblings, attempt at portraying a realistic incestuous relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-25 02:26:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 148,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prince_of_Elsinore/pseuds/Prince_of_Elsinore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ludwig Beilschmidt is happy to be attending the same university as his lifelong companion, best friend, and older brother, Gilbert. But as college experiences start expanding Ludwig's horizons, his perceptions of himself--and his brother--begin to change in unusual ways. How much can the brothers' bond withstand, though? Just when they seem closer than ever, so much threatens to force them apart...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first installment in an ongoing series (the second part, Submission, is currently underway). The series is my attempt at a realistic depiction of an incestuous relationship developing between two brothers, as well as a serious take on a few other fandom tropes.
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> Warnings: The story tags are the main things you should know, but other issues will come up in certain places, such as drug use and non-con. Not every chapter deserves an explicit rating, but overall this work is a solid E--expect some sensitive material.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Hetalia who populate this fic, just the story idea.

There was no way around it: it was hot. Way too hot. The late August sun beat down on the bricks of the campus walk and the facades of stone buildings, creating a cruel boiling pot for the hectic swarms of new students and movers milling about and struggling with overstuffed suitcases and bulging cardboard boxes.

Ludwig Beilschmidt looked queasily out at the shimmering sidewalks from the cool safety of his third story window. Perhaps he could busy himself with rearranging the haphazard pile of possessions on his half of the cramped dorm room in order to avoid re-exposing himself to the oppressive atmosphere of move-in day just yet. And it wasn't only the heat; Ludwig was sure that the nagging beginnings of a headache in his temples were caused as much by the clamor of annoyed voices as by the powerful sunrays. His austere cinderblock first-year room was becoming more and more appealing, with its air conditioning and relative peace…

"WHEW! It's hotter than Brad Pitt's ass in a speedo out there! I'm sweatin' like a nun in field of cucumbers!"

Ludwig cringed as his older brother banged through the door and announced his presence to the world.

The new arrival dropped the trunk he had lugged through the entryway onto the linoleum with a loud _thud_ and dashed over to where his little brother stood at the AC unit. Ludwig shifted guiltily as he watched him pant dramatically and tug at his shirt front as he let the blast of cold air rush over him.

"Oh, I'll get the rest, Gilbert, it's okay," he offered.

If his brother could take this weather, he had no excuse. Ludwig, unlike Gilbert, was not albino. Ludwig, unlike Gilbert, did not have hyper-sensitive eyes and skin. Ludwig, unlike Gilbert, did not have to wear long sleeves and pants on ruthlessly hot and sunny days in order to go outdoors.

"Kesesese!" Gilbert laughed his distinctive laugh. "No worries, bro, that trunk was the last of it, thank God. Jesus Christ, though, Luddy, since when did you have so much fucking stuff? You're almost as bad as Elizaveta! Speaking of which, can I hang out with you when my housemates get here? I don't want to be around that PMSing bitch while she's arranging her stuff, y'know? She's kinda compulsive about neatness. I tried to help her organize her kitchen utensils last year, and she hit me over the head with a frying pan. A mother fuckin' frying pan! Not like her pansy new boyfriend's much better though. All his shit's super expensive, he gets all possessive about it. Oh, and don't even think about laying a finger on his piano; he's having it shipped from home and I swear to God, he acts like that thing's a baby born of his own vag."

Ludwig's already slightly achy head reeled at his brother's ranting.

"Aren't those your friends you're talking about?" he questioned weakly.

Gilbert snorted. "Well, yeah, that's why I'm allowed to talk about them that way."

Ludwig quirked an eyebrow. He wasn't entirely convinced his brother was over the fact that Elizaveta had dumped him for his best friend, Roderich, though that had been over a year ago… but the three were sharing the rent on a house just off campus along with their humorless acquaintance Vash, so it couldn't be that bad, he decided.

"Ah, I see. Well, I hate to think how you must talk about me, then."

"Kesese, well, if you ever did anything to piss me off you might have something to worry about, but as it is you're in the clear." Gilbert slapped his little brother heartily on the back.

Ludwig allowed himself a small smile despite the dull pounding in his cranium. It was true his older brother never seemed to find any fault in him, and was always proud or even boastful of his accomplishments. In fact, it was Gilbert who had encouraged Ludwig most enthusiastically to attend his own alma mater, carrying on about how awesome it would be to go to school with his awesome little brother for one last year before he graduated. Standing by his brother as he gazed out at his new home, he thought that Gilbert might actually have had the right idea for once.

…

Gilbert stuck around a while longer, ostensibly just to help his little brother unpack a few things. He ended up sprawled out on Ludwig's bed instead as he prattled on about the best way to organize a dorm room, pointing here and there as Ludwig did most of the work. By the time he had removed the last item from the last suitcase, he almost wished that he, too, had a frying pan to hit his brother over the head with.

But only almost. His headache was receding despite his brother's babbling, and he had to admit that had Gilbert not been there, he may have committed what were apparently several horrendous faux pas of dorm décor. Not to mention that it would have taken at least twice as long for him to haul all of his luggage to the room by himself. No, this had worked out well. With Gilbert and Ludwig attending the same university, Gilbert could drive them both in his car and help the freshman settle in, meaning that their father didn't need to take one of his precious few days off work to assist the process or sacrifice his vehicle to the cause.

Gilbert gave an exhausted sigh from his place on the bed as if he had been the one pacing back and forth across the small space, bending down, reaching up, for the past hour or more. He sat up and Ludwig perched on the edge of the bed next to him, surveying his handiwork.

"Well, little bro, I guess I better get outta your hair before your suitemates get here or I might cramp your style, right?" Gilbert grinned.

"I'm actually surprised none of them have arrived yet. Registration must be closing soon."

Gilbert snorted. "Y'know, not everyone's as anal and insistent on getting to registration the moment they open as you are." He fell suddenly silent as he seemed to consider something seriously for a moment. He glanced at his brother. "Hey, hey Lud—you catch that?" He smirked.

"…uh…"

"…Anal! Kesesese!"

Ludwig rolled his eyes. "Wow, Gilbert, aren't you witty today."

"What's this? Do I detect a hint of sarcasm in my angelic little brother's tone? Never!"

Ludwig had to chuckle in spite of himself as his brother cackled merrily.

Gilbert wiped his eyes as he hopped off the bed.

"Anyway, I'll leave you to it. But I'll expect a full report! I dunno how I would feel about a roommate who goes by the nickname 'Feely.'"

Ludwig scoffed. "It's 'Feli.' I think it's supposed to sound more European. His family's Italian, apparently."

"Oo, he's from Italy?"

"No, he said he's from Brooklyn."

"Aw, damn, I thought for a moment if you got real buddy-buddy with him you might have a ticket or two across the Atlantic for spring break."

Ludwig sighed. "Well, Dad will probably want to travel for Christmas again."

"Oh, god. As long as he sticks to Germany. I think I was permanently scarred by London last year. What the fuck was he thinking? English food for Christmas dinner. Never again," said Gilbert, a stricken look on his face.

Ludwig grimaced. His brother may have been overdramatic, but he had to admit it was not a pleasant memory.

Gilbert shivered as if to shake off the thought of the distasteful meal. "So, need anything before I go?"

"I don't think so…"

"Awesome."

"But Gilbert?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for all the help, really. I… I'm glad it's worked out like this."

"Kesese, anything for my little bro." He reached out to ruffle Ludwig's hair, purposefully mussing up as many of the carefully slicked back blonde strands as possible.

Ludwig growled in annoyance but didn't say anything as his brother turned to go. Before he reached the door out of the suite, Gilbert took the sunglasses that had been stored on his shirt front and flipped them open with the flair of familiarity before placing them smoothly on the bridge of his nose. They were specially prescribed tinted glasses to reduce discomfort on exposure to light, so Gilbert wore them almost all the time when he was out (though he insisted it was merely because he was that awesome).

The albino flashed a grin, "See ya later Lud," and went out.

…

Within the next hour all three of the missing suitemates had arrived. They were all coming from the airport, where there had been some sort of hold up. Ludwig was glad he was already mostly organized and able to sit peaceably on his bed as the other three rushed about unpacking.

His roommate, Feliciano Vargas, turned out to be a brunette ball of effusive energy and enthusiasm. He kept on forgetting where he had packed things and what he had already unpacked, though, which made Ludwig wonder if he was truly all there. He had been quite startled when the smaller boy had insisted on giving him a huge welcoming hug, and his apprehension only increased as the Italian-American maintained a ceaseless stream of chatter as he set about his work. Luckily it only required the occasional grunt of acquiescence from Ludwig, but he couldn't help but think that this could get very tiring very quickly.

The boys sharing the other room could hardly have been more different from Feliciano. There was Kiku Honda, a foreign student straight from Tokyo, and Herakles Karpusi, a Greek-American from Chicago. Kiku would have been hard pressed to fit the Japanese stereotype any better than he already did. He was painfully polite and actually greeted Ludwig with a traditional bow, which surprised Ludwig almost as much as the hug from his own roommate had. He had thought for some reason that that kind of thing really only happened in movies, and it had been incredibly awkward when he had to drop his hand from its outstretched position where it had been waiting for a handshake. Ludwig half-inclined his head in an uncertain response—was he expected to bow back?—and shifted uncomfortably at how close the straight-faced student was standing to him. He supposed Kiku's personal space bubble must be considerably smaller than most Westerners'.

Herakles was just as quiet as his roommate, but his calm seemed the result of plain lethargy rather than rigid formality. Ludwig was relieved when he shook his hand like a normal human being (rather than a hyperactive hummingbird or an expressionless robot), but was quite concerned by how downright sleepy his new acquaintance appeared. There were a few times he noticed Herakles paused in the middle of the small entryway to the suite and thought that the boy had simply fallen asleep on his feet. He wondered if this was his usual behavior or if he was simply abnormally tired after packing and travelling. Maybe he suffered from narcolepsy?

The four decided to go out for dinner together and ended up at a nearby pizza joint at Feliciano's insistence. Most of the meal was taken up by the Italian's energetic chatter, and Ludwig found himself somewhat amused by his roommate's ramblings despite himself. He learned that Feliciano had a strong dislike of any physical activity and that he had many relatives in the area around Rome, though more than half of his extended family had moved to Brooklyn within the last century or so. He had decided to become an art history major after visiting some relatives who had taken him to all the greatest museums of the Italian capital.

Ludwig also managed to glean a few interesting tidbits from the others when they had a chance to speak. Herakles apparently looked after all the stray cats in his neighborhood and, despite his Greek Orthodox religion, seemed to believe he would be reincarnated as a cat in a future life (Ludwig was beginning to think maybe the Greek was just as strange as the other two). Kiku was a talented artist (as evidenced by a sample drawing he did for them on a paper napkin) with an extensive manga collection, though he was planning to study robotics in school (rather appropriately, thought Ludwig).

Ludwig, in turn, explained that his brother was a current senior at the university, and that they had both been raised by their single father, who had moved the family to the States from Germany when they were still very young. Though his father was technically a resident alien, he and Gilbert had received citizen status long ago, though they still enjoyed vacationing in their country of origin.

After hearing the names of all of Feliciano's favorite pastas (which included more types than Ludwig had ever even heard of, let alone tried), they decided to turn in for an early night after such a long day. Glancing at Herakles, who had fallen asleep at the table less than halfway through Feliciano's list, Ludwig thought that was probably a good choice.

…

A phone went off.

"Huh? Wha—uh, ahem, hello?"

"Soooooo? How are they?"

"Uh… who's… who is this?"

"Aw c'mon Lud, don't tell me you can't recognize your own awesome brother's voice."

"Gilbert? What time—Gilbert, it's two in the morning for God's sake! What the hell are you calling me for?"

"I already told you—I expected a full report. You never got back to me, so I thought I'd call. Is the coast clear? Can you talk? Or is the roomie there?"

"Gilbert, it's two a.m.. Where else would he be?"

"Heh, guess you haven't gotten used to a college schedule yet."

"Well, considering I haven't even been here a full day yet—"

"Okay, jeesh, keep your voice down, don't wanna wake Italian boy from his beauty sleep. Or is he still up? Wait, don't tell me—are you guys having a party in your room with all the new floor hos right now? Am I interrupting some, ahem, private time?"

"Uh, private time, yes actually. Me, myself, and I were really enjoying some nice, peaceful sleep."

"Oh. And the roomie?"

"He's… uh, snoring. Okay, scratch the 'peaceful.'"

"Ouch. That sucks, bro. But how is he?"

"He's… well… we're… polar opposites."

A low whistle. "This oughtta be interesting."

"Yeah, it's too early to tell anything though, I think."

"Hmph. Okay, and the others?"

"I can't tell what the one's thinking, it kinda creeps me out. The other one seems to fall asleep a lot and has a thing for cats."

"…You have weird roommates."

"Oh c'mon, like yours are any better."

"Hey! They—are… not that weird."

"Hmph."

"… I think I can hear him snoring. O my god."

"Hm, not surprising. So… what did you do?"

"Oh! I had a great time! Turns out Antonio got into town early too, so we hung out and caught up."

"Oh… do you two still hang out with that Francis guy?"

"Do we hang out with him? Dude, we're a trio! How could we not hang out with him? That's the whole point of a trio, there are THREE of you."

"Hm, well… just don't do anything stupid. He doesn't seem like a good influence."

"Awww! My little bro's trying to look out for me! Kesese, you're so sweet, Luddy. Frankly, though, I think I have more to worry about with you surrounded by robot-boy and cat-lady/man. I mean, that whole rose-down-the-pants thing was only that one time—though I did keep finding tiny thorns in places I never thought or hoped to for at least a week afterwards… but anyway, Francis is arriving later this week and yes, I do plan on going out drinking with him and Toni first chance we get."

"Wonderful."

"Hey! Why don't you come with us? That would be so awesome!"

"Uh, no thanks."

"Oh, c'mon…"

"Definitely not."

"You're no fun. But believe me, I'm taking you out drinking before the semester's over whether you like it or not."

"Gilbert, I'm underage."

"Your point?"

"My point is—oh, never mind."

"Kesese, thought so. Okay, well, enjoy orientation tomorrow—if I remember correctly, mine absolutely sucked ass. But, hey, I've had a faulty memory before."

"Great. I'm really hopeful."

"You gonna be able to sleep with that motor engine in the room? Or do you want me to count sheep for you like when you were little?"

"Gilbert, I hate to break it to you, but I'm pretty sure that only ever kept me awake longer."

"Nonsense. How could you possibly resist this mellifluous voice?"

"Mellifluous? Really Gilbert?"

"Hey, I can hang up whenever I want to."

"I'm counting on it."

"Ouch, that hurts! C'mon, don't ya wanna talk to your older bro?"

"Not at two o'clock in the morning, particularly."

"Oh fine, fine, grandpa. Get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night, Gilbert."

"'Night, Lud. Sleep tight."

_Click._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the first chapter is pretty lighthearted, and the next few will be too, but I gotta warn you-don't expect it to stay that way the whole way through. I'd like to address a few issues in this fic that always seem to be hanging around the edges of the fandom but which I've never seen really in the spotlight.
> 
> I love comments and feedback on my works, so please leave a few words if you feel so moved! Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

_Bzzzzz. Bzzzzz._

Ludwig’s phone was vibrating on his desk. He glanced at it. It was his brother.

“Alright, spill.”

“Uh, try a little more specificity…”

“Oh c’mon Lud, what else would I be talking about? How was your first day?”

“It was… good, I think.”

“Really? That’s lucky. First day of class always sucks balls for me.”

“What a pleasant way of putting it.”

“Well, c’mon, all you’re doing is getting syllabuses, going over ‘procedures and expectations’ and all that bull, and by the time they’re done talking about the semester you’re just like, ‘shit, how the fuck am I gonna get all that done before Christmas’ or ‘Jesus Christ, that’s all we’re doing this whole time? Somebody shoot me now.’”

“Ah. Well, I have to admit none of those exact thoughts crossed my mind today, though I did only have two classes to go to. I found it quite useful, though, when the psychology professor went over the course outline in minute detail. It shows that the teacher is well-organized and straightforward. I appreciate that. My Western Literature professor, on the other hand, jumped right into the course material, so I was not bored in the least, though I admit it sounds like it will be quite a lot of work.”

“Kesese, you’re such a tight-ass. Ok, so how is this not-boring prof?”

“Hm. Seems a little stuffy at first, but I have a suspicion he’s actually quite brilliant. He has a British accent too, which I was worried at first was affected, but turns out it’s completely authentic.”

“…What did you say his name was?”

“I didn’t. It’s Kirkland, Arthur Kirkland, I think.”

“…You have Professor Kirkland?”

“Yes, why?”

“…Nothing.”

“Gilbert, what? Do you know anything about him?”

“Ah, well… yeah, actually, I had him when I took Western Lit sophomore year…”

“Oh, well, is he good?”

“Is he—wha? Oh, good, um, yes. Yes, very… good.”

“…Okay… Gilbert, is everything alright?”

“Huh? Wha—of course! Kesese, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well you—”

“You’re so funny sometimes, bro. Oh, shit, y’know what, I forgot I’m supposed to be meeting Toni and Francis in three minutes! Catch ya later!”

“Wait, Gilb—”

_Click._

…

“So, what is St. Augustine trying to tell us in this passage?” Professor Kirkland queried, surveying the somewhat drowsy classroom as he paused in his pacing.

“Hm? Anybody? Is it as simple as ‘Thou Shalt Only Read the Bible’ or is there something else he’s driving at?”

A boy with wild blond hair seated across from Ludwig raised his hand. Kirkland nodded at him.

“Well, it seems that for sure he can’t just be saying you should only read the Bible, because I mean, wouldn’t that be a little hypocritical? I mean, not just because he’s actually read all these other books, but because he’s writing his own book too, and why would he write it if he doesn’t want people to read it? And anyway, all those other books, whether he agrees with them now or not, they helped shape him on his path to conversion; they’re what led him to where he is now. So isn’t he kind of just denying the importance of these other works in shaping him, and at the same time denying those who follow his advice the same chance for their finding their own path to enlightenment?”

Ludwig blinked, impressed by boy’s acute thought-process, especially when everyone else seemed to be getting distracted as the end of class ticked nearer. Ludwig, of course, focused his full attention on whoever was speaking.

Kirkland nodded, a slight smile on his lips. “Well, I think you touch on a very significant point there, Mathias. Because you’re right, Augustine has been shaped by those books that he is now condemning, even through the very act of rejecting them. Without them, it’s arguable whether he would have ever converted, and certainly without converting he would never have read the Bible. Maybe, though, maybe he hopes to make it easier for those who follow in his footsteps by simply telling them, ‘trust me, don’t waste your time with this load of bollocks, go straight to the good stuff” because he knows firsthand just how difficult it can be to resist the temptations offered by these other books. Think of it this way; according to Augustine, you are holy and righteous if you read the Bible. If you read the works of the Neo-Platonists or Manichees, your eyes will be blinded to the truth of God since you will be inclined to dedicate yourself to the falsities of those philosophies instead. Because the thing is, people tend to believe what they read. So, what Augustine is saying is, you’re just courting disaster if you read anything other than God’s word. You will be tainting your mind and allow yourself to be led astray, because: you are what you read. That’s what Augustine is driving at here, and that’s why the best possible course of action is to only read the Bible. Assuming you want to stay pure and go to Heaven, of course. Otherwise, sure, read any old blasphemy you get your hands on and go on your merry way to the Devil. That’s something to consider as we move through the semester; many of these authors seem to have a strong belief in the influence of the written word, for better or for worse. So consider, is there something especially authoritative about the written word that makes it easier to accept than ideas in other forms? Is it a particularly invasive or seductive way of disseminating ideas? Or are all these authors only focused so much on the power of reading and books simply by virtue of the fact that that is the medium they themselves are working in?

“But—whatever conclusions you arrive at as you heatedly debate this with your friends over dinner tonight, since I’m sure that’s the best thing all of you possibly have to do on a Friday evening—as I have a responsibility to you all as my students, I will warn you; this weekend, make sure you read the rest of Augustine’s ‘Confessions,’ and you should be pretty safe. Because you are what you read!

“Alright, congratulations on making it through your first week, and I’ll see you all Monday.”

The scrape of chairs on carpet followed directly on cue as most of the students got up and started filing out, with a few well-wishes for the weekend offered to the professor as he packed his briefcase. Ludwig and some others remained at their seats for a moment, finishing notes and zipping up bags. Ludwig neatly stacked his notebook among the other books in his backpack, stood, pushed in his own chair and one next to his that had been left practically in the middle of the floor, and went to the back of the small mob waiting to get through the bottleneck of the door.

“Ah, Ludwig, right?”

Ludwig turned, curious, to see Professor Kirkland looking at him hesitantly.

“That’s right.”

“Your last name’s Beilschmidt, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. Uh, my brother said he had you before…?”

“Ah, yes. Yes, so you are Gilbert’s little brother?”

“That’s me.” He smiled sheepishly, hoping Gilbert hadn’t been too obnoxious for this seemingly well-mannered Englishman. He didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with him because of his brother’s bad behavior.

“Ah, brilliant. I’m delighted to have another Beilschmidt in my class. Your brother was… one of my best students.”

Ludwig’s jaw dropped.

Kirkland cleared his throat roughly and glanced at Ludwig, that same hesitation in his emerald eyes. “How… how is he doing, by the way? A senior now, right? I haven’t… run into him for a while.”

Ludwig collected himself. “Oh, well, he’s doing quite well actually, I think. He’s had an internship at a music production company for a while now and it looks like a job offer might come out of it, so… we’ll see, I suppose.”

“Brilliant, brilliant…” Kirkland murmured, but his mind seemed to be somewhere else as his thick eyebrows furrowed. He looked back at Ludwig and swallowed, attempting a smile. “You two are… quite different, aren’t you?” He laughed nervously. Ludwig wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that and ended up shrugging awkwardly.

Suddenly Kirkland seemed to notice that the room had emptied out. Flustered, he grabbed his briefcase and turned to the door. “Well, er, give my regards to—or, no—er, well, see you Monday, anyway, Ludwig!”

He was practically out the door by the time he finished.

Ludwig stared after the man speed-walking down the hall, bewildered. Did his new professor always act this strange in personal interactions, or… What the hell could Gilbert have done?

…

“Luddy! Luddy! Guess what!” Feliciano came bounding into their room.

Ludwig glanced up from his book with a slight scowl. Only his brother ever called him “Luddy.” How on earth did his roommate pick up on the somewhat embarrassing nickname in their first week of school?

“What is it, Feliciano?”

Feliciano paused for a moment with a surprised look plastered on his face before it broke into his usual wide grin.

“Oh, come on Ludwig, we’re friends now! You can call me Feli!”

“Uh, alright… Feli,” he said, relenting despite how oddly casual the nickname sounded. After all, Feliciano had called him “Ludwig” after Ludwig had called Feliciano by his proper name, so perhaps he had picked up on Ludwig’s preference for formality.

“So anyway, Luddy—” (Ludwig sighed) “—Herakles found out about this awesome party tonight in an upperclassman suite and we’re all going!”

“We? Who’s we?”

“Me, Herakles, Kiku, and—well, you, if you want to…” He looked at Ludwig with wide, shining brown eyes. God, it was almost as bad as a puppy dog. “Come on, Lud. You didn’t come to any parties with us during orientation… we should all go out together!”

Ludwig stared at Feliciano. He just didn’t get this boy. He was so eager to call everyone his friend, so eager to go do things with people who were hardly more than strangers… and yet, Ludwig supposed that it could have been worse. If he had been stuck with a roommate as withdrawn as himself, his brother might end up being the only other human he would ever have contact with. He grimaced at the thought.

He sighed. He hadn’t gone out with his suitemates the week before because he had convinced himself it wasn’t a good way to start the semester, but he did feel a little guilty for giving them the cold shoulder, and now the others had bonded without him.

“Well… I suppose I have the whole weekend to do my homework… I guess I could—”

“YAY!! Oh, this is great, Lud, it’s gonna be so much fun! Herakles knows all the best parties! What are you going to wear? I don’t know what I’m going to wear—let’s help each other pick out clothes! Do you have good clothes for dance parties? I think I need to get some more, I mean, it’s so hard to find just the right thing, not too casual, not too formal—heehee, I bet there’ll be a lot of cute girls there! Do you have a girlfriend, Lud? I’ve never had a girlfriend—but I mean, of course I’ve kissed lots of girls! Just, nothing ever seemed to work out… but y’know, it’s pretty easy to get with someone after a few drinks at these things, and girls are just sooo pretty! I don’t understand how they do it. And last week, I even made out with this really hot girl on a couch!” He giggled.

Ludwig tried and failed to picture Feliciano making out with a hot girl in some dimly lit and crowded room. He realized his face must show his incredulity and quickly tried to correct it.

Feliciano continued grinning like a madman as he let himself fall onto his bed. “Lud, you should have seen her… she had these giant boobs, and I mean, like giant! Like you think you know big boobs, but you don’t until you’ve met this girl… they bounced with every step… I think her name was Kat…” he trailed off dreamily, then frowned. “But I’m not quite sure… we were both pretty drunk, I guess… I didn’t get her number.” He pouted. The uncanny resemblance to a puppy struck Ludwig once again.

But the mental picture Feliciano had painted for him preoccupied him more. Giant… boobs? Ludwig blushed. Feliciano seemed rather comfortable with the topic, as if he thought of it all the time. Was his roommate a sex maniac, or was it really that common to fixate on boobs so much? Ludwig had never really given them that much thought. In fact, even the mention made him a little squeamish. Not that he didn’t like them, of course—he just wasn’t familiar with them in the least.

“Have you ever hooked up with someone at a party, Lud?” Feliciano grinned at him expectantly.

“Hooked… up? I—uh… no.” He turned a bright shade of magenta. He’d heard the term before, and though he wasn’t sure of its exact definition it conjured up images of hastily-removed clothes and public indecency. Whatever it meant, Ludwig was sure he hadn’t done it.

“Oh.” Feliciano looked slightly disappointed. “Well you’ve kissed girls, right?”

“Um, well, not… exactly… as in no, I haven’t…” Ludwig squirmed under Feliciano’s wide-eyed gaze.

“What? You mean you never—oh wow, Lud—you’re really missing out…” The Italian looked almost shell-shocked.

Ludwig’s blush deepened even more.

“Well, I, uh, I mean, well—”

“Don’t worry, Lud! We can set you up with someone tonight! I feel it’s my duty to you as your roommate to make sure you don’t have to remain a lip virgin any longer than absolutely necessary.” He smiled, satisfied with his plan.

Ludwig groaned. “No, really Feliciano, you don’t have to do that—”

“Oh, Luddy, it’s really no problem! I’d be glad to! And I’m sure Kiku and Herakles will want to help too!”

“That’s not what I meant…” he mumbled miserably.

…

The party was supposed to start at 11, but Herakles had decided it wouldn’t be kosher to get there any earlier than 12:30 (which just seemed rudely late to Ludwig), so Ludwig found himself getting ready with Feliciano just a few minutes after midnight.

“So… a tie is too formal, right?” Ludwig tried to sound nonchalant as if he actually had some clue about what he was doing as he flipped desperately through the clothes in his closet, hoping inspiration would strike.

“Haha, no one wears ties to these things, Luddy! Well, except for the extra-douchy Frat boys, of course, so unless you think you can pull off the Frat boy swagger, I’d go more casual.”

“Oh, right, well, I don’t exactly think swaggering is… my style, so, can the tie. Got it.”

Kiku poked his head through the door. “Ah, Ludwig, I see you have decided to join us?” He made a peculiar head-bob as he said this.

“Yes, I don’t have too much work, I guess, so I thought why not…”

“Wonderful. Herakles will be happy to hear that. I will inform him when he wakes from his nap.”

“Nap? But isn’t it almost time to go?”

“He dressed earlier, but then he said he needed to save his energy for the party. That makes sense, I suppose.”

“I suppose…”

Kiku left and Ludwig shook his head. So far his brother’s assessment of his rooming situation was quite accurate. His suitemates’ idiosyncrasies had only become more prevalent over the past two weeks.

Ludwig turned to see Feliciano pulling off a pink polo he had decided against in favor of a black button-down. He left the top few buttons undone and then pulled on a pair of tight blue jeans. He tried a few poses in the mirror, and Ludwig was sure that the Italian was examining his ass when he popped a hip. Ludwig thought the clothes made him look more effeminate than usual, with his slight form, but somehow, much to the larger blonde’s astonishment and jealousy, Feliciano pulled the look off with ease.

“So… a button-down’s not too formal, and jeans aren’t too casual?” Ludwig questioned helplessly.

Feliciano laughed. “It’s all about your personal style, whatever you can make work. What do you think you look good in?”

Ludwig blushed. While he took care in matters of appearance, he wasn’t sure that any of the things he liked to wear would meet others’ standards of fashion. And ever since Feliciano had spoken about girls and hooking up and making out on couches and giant boobs, Ludwig hadn’t been able to take his mind off the prospect of what might transpire tonight. He wanted to look his best, for sure, but he was also apprehensive. Even if he had the perfect outfit, how would he know how to act?

“I usually wear pretty formal clothes, I guess… I’m not really sure if casual clothes suit me all that well…”

“Well we can’t have you in a suit and tie, can we? Come on Lud, there must be some simple outfit you remember getting complimented on before!”

Ludwig thought for a moment. There had been that time when… but surely that wouldn’t be appropriate…

“Ah, actually I do usually wear a black tank when I exercise, and someone told me it looked good with some cargo pants, but I don’t know if that’s really the right—”

“Sounds great! And it would be totally you! Show me!”

Ludwig blushed again as he rummaged through his drawers. He didn’t tell Feliciano that it had only been his brother who had said that, and that the words he had used were “fuckin’ sexy,” after which Ludwig had given him a good jab in the ribs. Gilbert had probably just been joking in order to get a reaction, Ludwig thought, depressed.

But Feliciano liked it, and finally Ludwig conceded. It was 12:39 when the four freshmen finally set out.

…

Beer was a marvelous invention. Ludwig was telling a new acquaintance so as he gulped sloppily from his fourth—or was it fifth?—solo cup. He couldn’t remember this acquaintance’s name, but names were a triviality. Ludwig was sure they were going to be great friends. At least, until he turned around and said acquaintance was nowhere to be found. Oh well, there were plenty of really friendly people to talk to here…

“Ludwiiig!!!”

Ludwig didn’t have time to register where the voice was coming from before he felt himself being pulled away from the clump of people where he had been attempting to socialize. Suddenly Feliciano’s face swam into view.

“Come dance with us Luddy!!” Feliciano’s voice sounded strange, distant and somewhat subdued. Ludwig wasn’t sure if it was the other’s voice or his own hearing, or both. Perhaps the pounding music was to blame. Nevertheless he allowed himself to be dragged out to the middle of the common area, not that he was in much of a state to object.

The room was a pulsing mass of bodies, criss-crossed with flashing lights in the dusky haze. It was uncomfortably humid and Ludwig could feel the thud of the beat vibrating in his chest from across the room while a monotonous electronic drone attacked his eardrums incessantly.

“Now let’s find some girls! Look, Herakles is already way ahead of us!”

Ludwig looked around and registered Herakles grinding against what looked like a rather attractive Asian girl, though it was hard to make out details in the hazy, dim light, especially while intoxicated. Kiku stood nearby awkwardly, bouncing slightly to the music. He didn’t strike Ludwig as the outgoing type so his enthusiasm for partying came as a surprise, but at least he seemed not to mind dancing alone. His eyes had a pleasantly glazed sheen to them as he stared into space.

Ludwig glanced back at Feliciano and saw that the smaller boy was already swaying back and forth and gyrating his hips in an undeniably sensual way. Ludwig stared for a moment before realizing that people might get the wrong idea. He tried to copy Feliciano’s movements discreetly, but it was harder than he made it look. Feliciano’s lithe body seemed to move in fluid ways that Ludwig’s muscular frame simply wasn’t made for.

The alcohol had loosened him up, however, and finally he settled into a pattern that, though not very coordinated, was at least adequate. A girl came up to Feliciano and started dancing close to him, which quickly turned into grinding. Despite his small stature, it seemed he knew how to impress with just the right set of moves. It turned out Feliciano was a pro at picking up the chicks.

Ludwig, on the other hand, didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He had gotten the solo dancing down alright, but how did that progress to coupling up? Feliciano and his partner were slowly drifting away from him in the crowd, so he could no longer observe his roommate’s actions. Ludwig noticed a few guys just reaching out and pulling girls towards them, but even drunk as he was Ludwig didn’t think he could possibly bring himself to grab a girl like that. Being drunk didn’t mean he didn’t have to be polite. Perhaps another beer would illuminate the best course of action.

Ludwig was sipping the last drops from another red-and-white plastic cup when he noticed her. From the other side of the dance floor, this girl was definitely eying him. Or at least maybe eying him. He couldn’t be sure, but it was enough. She looked a little on the young side with her bobbed hair tied on one side with a ribbon, but damn, she was cute. Ludwig never really thought he would go for a petite girl like her, especially considering his own size, but it was worth a try.

He kept on glancing at her across the sea of bodies as he slowly, nonchalantly danced his way around the edge of the room. He was sure he caught her eye more than once, and she seemed to be drifting in his direction. She wasn’t dancing in quite the explicitly sexual way many others were, but there was something about those big eyes and that sweet little mouth that had him entranced.

Someone was shouting in his ear. He turned to see Feliciano, now partner-less. His mouth was moving, but all Ludwig could hear was the incessant roar of the speakers just feet away.

“What?” he shouted back.

Feliciano put his head right next to Ludwig’s (which required him to stand on tiptoe while Ludwig bent down) and shouted at the top of his lungs.

“I THINK HERAKLES AND KIKU LEFT. DO YOU WANT TO GO SOON?” The words were slightly slurred, but still distinguishable.

It took Ludwig a moment to process the question. Go? Why would he want to go? There was no reason to leave so soon, especially when he was getting so close to that girl… It seemed Feliciano had forgotten his promise.

“Na, I’ma staywhile.”

“What?” Feliciano scrunched up his nose.

“Said, I’m STAAYIING.”

“Ok… can you make it back alright, Lud?” He looked concerned.

“Yeah, fine, fine.” He patted Feliciano sloppily on the back.

“See you.” Feliciano gave a lopsided smile and disappeared into the crowd.

Ludwig turned his attention back to dancing and looking for the girl. He was beginning to feel even funnier now; maybe that last beer had caught up with him. Everything reached his senses delayed, and his limbs felt heavy and sluggish. It was like being underwater, muffled sounds, blurry sights. His hands tingled.

And then, she was right there. Directly in front of him. He didn’t dare make a move yet, though. They danced, less than a foot apart, for a minute or so, before she leaned over with an adorable yet slightly coy smile and said, “Hey, what’s your name?”

He tried to say “Ludwig,” but his tongue felt thick and it sounded a bit off.

“What?”

“LUD-WIG,” he stated carefully.

“Oh, I love that name!” Her half-lidded eyes and slightly lolling head betrayed her drunkenness.

She loved his name! That must be a good sign. “Whasyours?”

“Lili.” 

It sounded like a little girl’s name. As if he didn’t feel enough like a pedophile already. But he had to admit it was pretty adorable…

She grinned. He grinned back.

“Wanna dance?” He felt it best to ask.

“Sure.” She giggled bashfully. Oh god, she was just too cute to be real…

She backed up against him and Ludwig’s skin tingled all over. That might have just been the alcohol, but the feeling of a warm body pressed against his was undeniably delicious…

Lili began to move. She pulsed her body up and down and ground her butt in its tight, frilly skirt against Ludwig’s groin. Ludwig wasn’t quite sure where to put his hands at first, but when she started doing that the most natural place seemed to be her hips. Animal instinct took over as he guided her small hips in a sensual dance against his, meeting her movements with his own oscillations. He savored the friction against his crotch, the knowledge that only a few layers of flimsy fabric separated their most intimate parts driving him just a little more insane.

Ludwig was lost in a sea of sensation. Her narrow back warming into his chest, the pressure of thighs on thighs, her perfect, if small, ass rubbing him at a purposefully lewd angle, as if they were fucking with their clothes on... She let her head fall back on his shoulder and trailed one hand up his sweaty neck to clench in his hair, while the other reached back around to his hip, a few sensuous fingers curling lazily under his buttock.

Ludwig’s hands began to roam. He spread his fingers over her pelvis, feeling the hard bones. Fingers explored down, over the crevices at the tops of her thighs to cling at her skirt, then up, over firm ribs to stop just short of cupping her tiny chest. He buried his nose in her hair because God she smelled so good, almost edible—and then restless fingers moved to paddle at her neck and blond locks, to circle her tight stomach, to press into soft thighs, and to dip dangerously lower than her shirt hem along her front.

They were facing each other now. Ludwig wasn’t sure how the switch of his partner’s position had occurred, but he was far from objecting. Lili’s hands clung at his arms, back, and shoulders, urging him on as he dared further. He was practically straddling her leg and she seemed to be consciously working her hipbone against his soft parts… It was exquisite, and it was making Ludwig hard.

He wasn’t thinking anymore. He let the flow of the alcohol, the pounding bass, and his libido take him, and he was floating as their cheeks brushed and their heavy breaths mingled. He groped the softness of her ass through the skirt, hooking a few fingers beneath the hem. Her face was turned to his, her lips so close, and then all of a sudden they were locked together, and it was like an ocean wave crashing over Ludwig and sweeping him away.

For some reason, he hadn’t expected kissing to be so… soft. Her lips, her tongue, the walls of her mouth as he plunged his tongue inside, they were all so smooth, so almost obscenely wet. He couldn’t feel the minute textures of taste buds or ridged palettes, only slickness everywhere.

They were lost in the kiss. Neither noticed when the music stopped and the lights came on. Sucking at each other’s faces, mouthing at each other’s jaws and chins, they leaned into the wall, the nearest support, and Ludwig pressed their bodies flush together. One finger crept under her shirt to rub at a sliver of exposed skin at her side and her fists gripped his shirt like vices. His other hand trailed up a smooth, exposed thigh, pushing up her skirt and reaching, reaching towards heated, secret flesh—

Suddenly, Ludwig felt a hand on his wrist tugging him away harshly. Annoyed at the interruption, he spun towards the intruder and immediately began to sway dangerously. He couldn’t stand on his own. The last thing he saw was long, white fingers wrapped around his arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the professor's long lecture speech, but... it's kinda important to the rest of the story. So read it! You'll see. Hope you're not bored by it, there'll be a bit more of this kind of thing sprinkled throughout, as I would like to include a bit of intellectual exploration in this fic along with all the... sexual exploration. Oh yes, it will happen. Eventually.
> 
> Next chapter: more interaction between the brothers, plus the introduction of at least one key element of this story. (I know that's not very specific but I don't like giving things away.)
> 
> Please leave a comment if you're so inclined! Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing Ludwig registered when he woke was a feeling like his head had been sawed open.

Second was that he was not in his own bed.

Third was that he was not alone in bed.

He shot straight up, but immediately regretted doing so. His head pounded horrendously, and his stomach was threatening to revolt. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if it would somehow help the pain, and flopped back down on the foreign pillow with a groan. His throat was raspy and his mouth desert dry and foul tasting.

"Hey, looks like sleeping beauty finally decided to rise from her slumber," drawled an all-too recognizable voice next to his ear (and rather too loudly for comfort). "Rise and shine, bruderlein!"

Ludwig cracked an eye open. Scarlet irises, inches from his face, were gazing at him intently. He parted his parched lips in an attempt to speak, but a wave of nausea surged up from his gut to his chest and all he could manage was a groan as his eyes squeezed closed again.

Gilbert sat up a little to look down at his younger brother's contorted face with concern. "That bad, huh?"

Ludwig nodded weakly, lips firmly pressed together.

"Hang on a sec." Gilbert scooted off the bed and disappeared through the door to the bathroom.

It was only then that Ludwig was able to take note of his surroundings. He was in his brother's room, and, embarrassingly enough, his bed.

His clothes had been removed down to the boxers, yet he still felt feverishly warm. He threw the blankets off of himself fitfully and began squirming around, restlessly seeking a position in which his stomach might settle down and his head might stay in one piece.

"Woah there, cowboy." Gilbert was at his side again, placing a reassuring hand on Ludwig's shoulder. "Just lie still and try to drink this."

The blond squinted up at his brother and the proffered glass of water as he struggled not to move, but even his shallow breathing felt like too much of a disturbance to the rest of his body. There was no way he could swallow anything in this condition… and then he felt the tell-tale sign of a rising lump in his throat.

His face must have shown what he felt, because Gilbert's eyes widened.

"Oh, no, you're not going to—"

Ludwig leaned instinctively towards the edge of the bed.

"Oh shit, you are, aren't you—" Gilbert grabbed his trashcan and held it up just in time as his brother gave a sickening heave.

"Don't get it on my sheets!" he squealed, but luckily Ludwig's aim was true.

As Gilbert watched his brother empty the contents of his stomach, his initial revulsion gave way to worry, even sympathy. He had been in similar condition plenty of times, and he knew it was no fun. He set down the glass and gingerly reached out to place a hand on Ludwig's perspiring back, gently rubbing in a slow circle as he had when the boy was little.

The warm presence of his brother's hand was a comfort to Ludwig, but his stomach was still churning.

"Mm, shh, shhh…" the albino cooed sympathetically as the younger gave a few more heaves.

Ludwig squeezed his eyes shut and tried to concentrate on the smooth movement of the hand against his back, letting its steady repetitions lull him and calm his aching muscles.

Finally, when Ludwig's brow unknit, Gilbert deemed it safe to clean out the trashcan.

"Uh, be right back…" With one last rub he turned and headed to the bathroom.

He quickly dumped the contents of the trashcan down the toilet and flushed, but didn't bother to rinse it out in case it was needed again. As an afterthought, he grabbed a washcloth and wet it with warm water.

Returning to his brother's side, he looked compassionately down at the pale, sweaty face, and pressed the cloth gently to the shining forehead.

Ludwig opened his eyes in surprise at the unexpected sensation, but soon closed them again with a contented hum as his brother stroked his face soothingly with the warm cloth and cleaned around his mouth. He was always surprised to remember how tender Gilbert could be; he had always doted on Ludwig when the younger boy was sick.

Gilbert sighed as he worked. He hated seeing Ludwig in pain. In fact, there was probably nothing he hated more, and it pained him in turn when he, the older brother and supposed protector, could not instantly make everything better. So when the blond let out another groan, Gilbert felt his own chest constricting.

Ludwig's head was pounding anew. "Gilbert…" he implored in a hoarse whisper, though he didn't know what he expected his brother to do about it. He was being childish, but he felt so miserable he didn't care, he just wanted the relentless affliction throughout his body to go away.

"I'm right here," Gilbert comforted, heart aching at his brother's pitiable entreaty. He set aside the washcloth and picked up the glass of water again. "You need to drink this."

He pressed the glass to the younger's lips while gently lifting his head with his other hand. Ludwig complied with a few sips, then had to stop.

"Oh God, my head…" he moaned, fighting the impulse to sob.

If the situation weren't already embarrassing enough for the blond, it was made worse by the fact that he knew it was all his fault. Stupid, stupid, stupid… why had he felt the need to drink so many beers? Surely the last cup hadn't been necessary, nor the second-to-last, nor maybe even the third-to-last… he was just stupid, stupid, so fucking stupid and God he felt like he was going to die, there was no relief from the pressure in his head and the indeterminate yet all too acute discomfort everywhere else…

Gilbert looked on helplessly. "C'mon, Lud, drink… you'll feel better…" He hoped it wasn't a lie.

Ludwig took a few more gulps. "Advil?" he questioned feebly.

"Sorry bro, not a good idea, it can mess with your stomach." Gilbert wished he could give it to him anyway.

Ludwig wanted to cry, he really did. He just wanted this to be over. Who knew hangovers could be so god-awful? And why did he have to be so weak about it? Gilbert would probably never let him live this one down, though for now he couldn't have been more grateful for his brother's presence.

He couldn't help it. "C-cold," he whined, for suddenly he was shivering.

"That's 'cause you threw your covers off, genius," Gilbert tried to tease lightly as he pulled the blankets back up and tucked them under Ludwig's chin.

But Ludwig was still shivering.

Gilbert stood by the bed in indecision, but another low groan from his brother made up his mind. Swiftly, he slipped under the covers next to Ludwig and tentatively wrapped his arms around his firm torso.

He half-expected to be pushed away gruffly, as he often was when showering affection on his reticent little brother, but Ludwig made no move to stop him. Encouraged by this, Gilbert snuggled up closer to his brother, pressing his body to the larger blond's side in as comforting a manner as possible.

Ludwig became vaguely aware of the fact that Gilbert was also only wearing boxers, and that under normal circumstances he would have immediately kicked him out of the bed (never mind that it was Gilbert's bed). As it was, however, the soft warmth of his elder brother's body was a welcome sensation compared to everything else he was feeling. He let himself melt into the strong yet gentle embrace. The arms holding him were heavy, but not too heavy. They felt like anchors securing Ludwig to reality: the softness of the mattress, the steady rise and fall of Gilbert's chest, the smoothness of his skin, and the hot zephyrs of his breath dusting Ludwig's temples. He tried to narrow his focus to these things and block out the pain. Eventually, these too slipped away as Ludwig drifted back into a peaceful sleep.

Gilbert, however, remained awake. He watched the lines on Ludwig's face disappear as slumber took him, and he couldn't help but smile at how innocent his little brother looked—not that it was just a matter of appearance. Ludwig was innocent. Their father had brought both brothers up in a very sheltered atmosphere, which had somewhat hindered their social lives when they were younger.

For Gilbert, this had been compounded by his condition. He hated going to the park to play sports, covered from head to toe, only to be laughed at by the other boys and girls for his appearance. He hated their mockery and he feared their taunts, so he tended to stay indoors, away from his two worst enemies: his cruel classmates and the sun.

Both brothers did make some friends, of course, but with so many carefully-marked hours stuck in the house for chores and homework, they saw far more of each other than of their peers, and perhaps out of the necessity to break up the monotony of their father's rigid household, they learned to enjoy each other's company despite their conflicting personalities. But while Ludwig had always been a stickler for their father's rules, Gilbert had a rebellious streak that became more and more blaringly obvious throughout his high school years, manifesting itself in broken curfews and hastily-hidden piles of refuse that included empty cigarette packs, beer cans, and condom wrappers. He wasn't always successful in keeping those from their father's prying eyes, which resulted in some of the most heated and painful arguments he could remember.

When Gilbert left for college, Ludwig had been starting his sophomore year in high school, but never once did he show any signs of following in his brother's unruly footsteps. Ludwig continued to live the same quiet, scrupulous existence as before, only now without Gilbert's company. And Gilbert felt sorry for him. Not in a completely self-important way (though he did feel a little bad for anyone without the fortune of having someone as awesome as himself around), but more in a concerned way. He worried about his brother wasting his best years without ever doing the kind of crazy things you could only get away with at that age. He worried about the fact that his brother had never dated, nor even expressed much interest in doing so—hell, he worried that Ludwig would stay a virgin for life!

Most of all, though, he was worried that they would grow apart. It didn't look to him like Ludwig was going to break out of his shell any time soon, and he wondered if, after Ludwig graduated from college and after years of living separately, their strange chemistry would be lost, and they would simply be too different. It was why he had encouraged Ludwig so ardently to come to the same school, hoping he could exert enough of his influence in one year to "save" his little brother—to save their relationship.

Gilbert could feel the toned muscle of the body under his hands, and he had to admit he thought himself a little ridiculous for feeling the need to come to the rescue of such a brawny, not to mention intelligent, young man. Most people would probably consider his little brother to be more capable than he; yet Gilbert would never stop thinking of Ludwig as the boy who would run to him for comfort when he was in tears and whose head Gilbert could easily tuck under his chin when they hugged.

At the moment, Ludwig was once again tucked under Gilbert's chin, but for the first time in… well, the albino couldn't remember the last time he had been able to hold his brother like this. And it felt… nice. Simply being so close. If distance between Ludwig and himself was what he feared, then this had to be the opposite. The angelic blond's soft breaths tickled Gilbert's neck, making him smile. The vast expanses of Ludwig's warm flesh pressing against Gilbert's was a reassurance, that he was very much present, and that he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Sighing happily, Gilbert leaned in to touch his lips to his brother's smooth brow. He stayed there a moment as the blond continued to dream untroubled, and bestowed all the tenderness and affection he could summon into the gentle kiss. Sighing again, he settled his head back down on the pillow and contented himself with watching Ludwig's undisturbed features and the synchronized rise and fall of breath within both their bodies, thinking how absolutely perfect this moment was.

…

Ludwig's eyes fluttered open. For a single instant, he was once again shocked at his situation—in bed with someone else's arms around him—before he realized it was Gilbert, and remembered how he had fallen back asleep. Glancing up, he saw that his older brother had snoozed off as well.

He had absolutely no clue what time it was, but he felt surprisingly refreshed and mercifully headache-free. If he really was better, though, he should be getting back to his dorm to do some of the work he had put off… not to mention that as he stared at his brother's collarbone directly in front of his face he was becoming more and more embarrassed with the situation.

He glanced guiltily at Gilbert's sleeping face. He felt bad about disturbing him, but Ludwig couldn't simply stay there as his personal body pillow. As grateful as he was for his earlier care, Ludwig had never been nearly as comfortable as Gilbert with physical signs of affection.

Gingerly, he sat up and scooted a few inches back from his brother, whose long arm fell from Ludwig's torso. A white brow furrowed and red eyes squinted up at the blond. A smile spread over Gilbert's features.

"Hey, you're awake. How d'you feel?"

Ludwig took in a deep breath. "Fine, actually."

"Kesese, I cured you with my awesomeness!" He reached up to ruffle Ludwig's hair.

Ludwig snorted but smiled down sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess. Thanks. Though… how did I even get here?"

"Yeah, not surprised you don't remember. You must have blacked out. After I picked you up off the floor you could barely walk even with me holding you up! But I brought you back here 'cause I couldn't leave you alone and have you choke on your vomit or something. How much did you drink, anyway?"

"…Six beers, I think?"

"HA! Aw, that's okay, Luddy, we'll build up your tolerance yet…"

For a moment Gilbert just gazed happily up at his brother. Ludwig could feel himself growing flustered.

"Well, uh, I really should get going, I have a lot to do—"

"Hang on just one second, you're not going anywhere yet." Gilbert reached out and pulled the younger boy back down to the mattress. "You've got some explaining to do." He grinned mischievously.

Ludwig knew that grin all too well. "W-what do you mean?"

"Like, how do you know Lili?"

"Lili?" he questioned, honestly confused.

"Yeah, you know, the girl you were nearly finger-fucking with your tongue down her throat when I came and saved you."

Ludwig reddened. "What? I was not—"

"Looked like you were having a pretty good time, though. Was that your first?"

"Uh…"

"Heh, first drink and first kiss all in one night, huh? Gotta say I'm pretty proud of you, bro. Maybe you're not a lost cause after all. Though I am a little miffed your first time wasn't with me."

"W-wait, what?"

Gilbert blinked at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. "I mean getting drunk, Luddy! Kesese, did you think I meant kissing? Kesesesese!"

Ludwig sat up, irritated. "Well what's it to you anyway?"

Gilbert wiped away tears of laughter. "Oh, nothing, just, ah, I didn't take you for a cradle robber, but hey, if you're into that just don't get caught."

"What in the world are you talking about?" He was getting seriously annoyed.

"What, don't tell me you didn't know."

"Didn't know WHAT?"

Gilbert raised his eyebrows. "Uh, you do remember that cute little girl you were so enthusiastically snogging, don't you?"

Ludwig's blush deepened. "Um, well, something like that, yes…"

"And you do realize she's Vash Zwingli's little sister, don't you?"

Ludwig's eyes widened.

"And that she's… I think sixteen years old at most?"

His jaw dropped. "W-w-what?"

"Oh, so you didn't know. Good thing I happened to drop in on that party, then."

"I— sh— w— what the hell was she doing there then?"

"Vash's family lives nearby, she goes to high school in town."

"Th-that doesn't answer the question," Ludwig breathed, dazed.

Gilbert propped himself up on an elbow. "Well, see, the whole pre-pubescent Lolita thing isn't the problem here," he explained very matter-of-factly. "The problem is her brother. He's very protective of her, you could say. Goes home on weekends to visit the fam', mostly to check on little Lili though. I've seen her around here before, seems she likes to rebel just a little. Of course, Vash would bite the head off any guy who tried to lay a finger on her if he knew, so while I was saving you from jail-bait, I was, more importantly, saving you from said jail-bait's brother. 'Cause, you know, I like you with a head and everything."

Ludwig stared, slack-jawed. He felt awful. He had practically molested an underage girl. "I… I had no idea, I swear… I just thought she looked young…"

"Are you listening to what I'm saying? Don't feel bad about that, it's not like you're the first. It's her brother you gotta watch out for, who happens to live in the same house as me."

Ludwig blinked at him. Gilbert glanced around as if to make sure the subject of their conversation was not present in Gilbert's own room, and instinctively Ludwig followed suit. Gilbert then leaned in to whisper conspiratorially in his brother's ear. "Y'know… I think it goes beyond brotherly affection, if ya know what I mean." He shot the blond a significant look.

Ludwig froze in shock and disgust. "Ew. Gilbert. Don't joke about those things."

The albino raised his hands defensively. "Hey, I'm just speakin' the truth."

"No you're not, you don't know the truth! Don't talk about things you don't know about!"

"Why, can't I share an opinion with you?"

"I don't want to know about… whatever they do, or don't do! Neither should you! It's none of your business, so don't spread rumors."

Gilbert arched an eyebrow. "You don't think it's my business if someone I'm living with is committing incest? Which is a crime, I might add?"

Ludwig could feel his face getting hotter by the second. "W— well… I…" He swallowed. "If… if it's not disturbing you, you don't need to go prying into it. And it's probably nothing anyway." He fixed his eyes on the sheets he was clutching in his lap.

But Gilbert didn't respond, and the silence was wearing Ludwig's nerves even thinner. Finally he had to glance back, only to meet a bemused expression on his brother's face.

"No way…" Gilbert said softly, almost to himself, before speaking up more. "Heh. You're such a one for rules, Luddy, I didn't expect that from you… essentially saying you don't care about the laws if it doesn't hurt anyone, right? Maybe a little beer and female attention was all you needed to loosen up just a bit, kesese!"

"N-no, it's just that…" He couldn't think of how to finish.

"Well, that's ok, I'm not actually digging my nose in their biz; I mean, as long as it's consensual, right?" He smirked.

"Th-that's not what I meant!"

"Tch, well, whatever, anyway." Gilbert scooted off the bed, much to Ludwig's relief. God, was there anything more uncomfortable than discussing incest… with his own brother?

Gilbert shot a look back over his shoulder at him. "Kesese, you should see yourself when you're embarrassed, Lud. It's a picture."

If it had been possible, Ludwig's blush would have gone a shade darker.

"I… I need to get back. Um…" He glanced around the room. "Gilbert, where are my clothes?"

"Oh, they smelled like alcohol, sweat, and cigarette smoke. Didn't think that'd appeal to you too much, so I dumped them in the dirty laundry. I almost took the boxers too, but I decided I didn't wanna spoil you too much so I let you keep 'em. Anyway I'll wash the clothes and get 'em back to you asap."

"Uh, thanks, but… what am I supposed to wear now?"

"Some of my clothes, of course! Something ought to fit you…" He started digging around in a drawer. "Here, try… this!" A few articles of clothing came flying at Ludwig's face.

He held them up and stared.

"Gilbert… I'm not wearing this."

"Oh, well, if you'd prefer to walk back in your boxers, be my guest. It'd be quite a show for the ladies on the porch of the old people's home up the street, though you might not have quite as much luck with campus security. See, that's the only t-shirt you wouldn't stretch out in the shoulders, and those pants were always a size too big for me."

Ludwig glared at his brother, then at the obnoxiously yellow skinny jeans and neon pink v-neck with some band name scribbled across the front that he held in his hands.

"I hate you," he grumbled.

…

"Ludwig, what are you wearing?"

Those were the first words out of Kiku's mouth when Ludwig stepped back into their suite.

"They're my brother's," he mumbled without making eye contact.

Kiku simply watched, bewildered, as the muscular blond stuffed into too-tight, brightly colored clothing brushed past and disappeared through the door to his room.

Much to Ludwig's relief, he found the room empty. He didn't want to hear Feliciano's reaction to his "new look." Throwing the offending clothes into his laundry hamper as quickly as possible and changing into a fresh pair of boxers, he put the air-conditioning on full blast and sank gratefully into his desk chair. His peace was short-lived, however, for suddenly the door opened and Herakles' face peeked in.

Ludwig frowned slightly. Didn't people knock anymore?

"Oh, you're back," Herakles said almost apathetically.

"Yes…"

Herakles stepped in, followed by Kiku.

Exasperated, Ludwig began, "I have a lot to do; do you need something?"

Kiku looked at the blond, frozen in shock. "P-please, put a shirt on!"

Ludwig looked at the Japanese boy in confusion, but compliantly took his pajama shirt from his bed and pulled it on.

Herakles stared at his roommate, slightly perplexed, for a moment before saying, "You don't mind when I'm not wearing a shirt…"

Kiku blushed. "Th-that's different! A-anyway, Ludwig! We came to ask what happened last night!" he blurted out.

It was Ludwig's turn to blush. "Nothing happened," he said quietly, looking down.

"But Feliciano said you never came back. And why were you wearing your brother's clothes?" Kiku pressed.

Herakles tilted his head, a slight flicker of interest in his eyes. "Don't be embarrassed about a one-night stand, if that's what it was," he said in his lethargic way. "I had a great one last night."

The other two boys stared at him, their blushes deepening.

"Wh-who was it?" Kiku asked tentatively.

"The girl I was dancing with."

Ludwig tried to remember who he had seen Herakles grinding on.

Kiku saved him the trouble. "You mean the president of the Taiwanese Student Association?"

"Yeah."

"Ah, is she… your type?" Kiku's voice was very timid.

"Hm. Don't think I have a type… My friends say I have yellow fever, but… I don't see it."

"Yellow fever?" Ludwig and Kiku questioned in unison.

"Yeah, you know… They think I only like Asians. But just because I only went out with Asians in high school doesn't mean I have yellow fever… there were just a lot of Asians at my school."

Ludwig looked at him skeptically while Kiku simply reddened even more.

"Anyway…" the Greek continued, looking at Ludwig. "What about you?"

Ludwig felt the heat returning to his cheeks. "Nothing, I said! My brother just came and picked me up and let me crash at his place. And he… lent me clothes."

"Why, did you get naked at the party?" Herakles asked, very matter-of-factly.

The others nearly choked.

"Wh-what? No! I just—no, Gilbert just offered to wash my clothes for me!"

"Oh."

After what felt like a very long and awkward pause to Ludwig, Herakles continued. "It must be nice to have a brother," he said with a far-off face.

"Indeed, you are very lucky," Kiku said. "I wish I had such a relationship with my siblings. You and Gilbert are very close, aren't you?"

"Uh, well… yeah, I guess. He was around a lot more than my dad when I was little, so even though he's only three years older, I guess you could say he kind of raised me." Ludwig rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. He was always caught off-guard by people expressing envy for his sibling relationship, which happened surprisingly often. He supposed he took Gilbert for granted, but perhaps he ought not to. Though his elder brother certainly knew how to push his buttons, it made him feel guilty to think he didn't appreciate him more, especially when others made it seem like what they had was so rare.

"You… you really think that's unusual?" he ventured.

"In my family all my siblings are so different, and competition gets in the way too. It would be unusual for one of them to go out of their way for me. But I think it's quite special," said Kiku.

Herakles nodded, then added, as if as an afterthought, "I thought brothers usually hated each other."

"Well, it's not like we don't fight…" And he and Gilbert could hardly be more different; why, then, were they still so close, when other siblings weren't? For some reason, though, Ludwig felt uncomfortable and defensive. "Look, I really do have to get to work, so…"

"Ah, of course." Kiku bobbed his head. "Sorry to detain you." He left, followed by Herakles, who gave a nod on his way out.

…

But Ludwig couldn't work. As he sat, staring at the same page of _The Confessions of Saint Augustine_ as he had been on for the past forty-five minutes, his thoughts kept roaming to the previous night and that morning. He wanted to kick himself a million times over for a million different things. Drinking the beer, getting the hangover, giving away his first kiss while drunk, giving away his first kiss to a sixteen-year-old while drunk, touching a sixteen-year-old while drunk, heading towards fucking a sixteen-year-old and sister of his brother's house-mate while drunk, not making it that far—wait, no, he wasn't supposed to think that—not stopping himself sooner (or who was he kidding—not stopping himself at all), blacking out, puking in Gilbert's room, embarrassing himself in front of Gilbert (not to mention sleeping in his arms in only boxers like some five-year-old), embarrassing himself in front of the whole campus in Gilbert's clothing (or so he felt), and… not expressing his gratitude to Gilbert enough.

He sighed, exhausted just by thinking of it all. It may well have been the craziest twelve hours of his life. Now, though, he really needed to concentrate on his reading. Perhaps it would help if he took notes.

He rummaged around in his desk drawer for his sticky notes (he could never stand the thought of ruining a pristine book by scrawling in the margins) but couldn't find them. Strange… he always kept his school supplies in perfect order… but perhaps he could borrow some.

Feliciano wasn't back yet, and he didn't think it right to go rummaging through his roommate's things without his permission, so he knocked on Kiku's and Herakles' door.

"Come in," called Kiku.

Ludwig stepped in and saw Kiku bent over his laptop at his desk and Herakles, sprawled on his bed with his nose in a book—or no, he was actually using the book as a pillow. Not wanting to wake him, Ludwig tiptoed over to Kiku and whispered, "Sorry to ask, but do you have any sticky notes I could borrow? I seem to have misplaced mine."

"Oh, don't worry about waking him," Kiku said, not bother to keep his voice down as he gestured to the sleeping boy. "He sleeps through a lot. And yes, I do have some you could use."

He reached into his desk and handed a small square of hot pink post-its to Ludwig, who twitched slightly at the color. It reminded him of Gilbert's v-neck.

"Thanks," he breathed anyway. Then he caught sight of Kiku's computer screen. Rather than the essay or jumble of computer-programming he had expected, there was a digital drawing in progress glaring from the monitor, and it looked quite skillfully done.

"What's that?" he asked bluntly, genuinely curious. He remembered Kiku had listed drawing manga as a hobby of his.

"Ah, I'm working on a doujinshi for a manga series I like."

"A what?"

"It's called a doujinshi. It's a self-published manga. They're usually based off of a mainstream publication, like the ones I do. That way I can sell them to fans of the series."

Ludwig was impressed Kiku made money off his artwork, though he would never say so directly. "Well, I can see why they'd want to buy them—it looks very good," he said, nodding to the screen.

Kiku smiled and bowed his head. "Thank you." He reached to the bookshelf by his desk, which was crowded with volumes of manga. He pulled one out and handed it to Ludwig. "Here, this is the first volume of the series, translated into English. I got it several years ago to practice my English in an entertaining way. You should read it if you're interested; it's very good."

"Oh, ah, thanks…"

"You're welcome."

"And, thanks again for the notes!" Ludwig added, turning to go back to his room.

…

The sticky notes didn't help, though. He simply couldn't organize his thoughts enough to condense them to post-it size. And the shocking pink hurt his eyes.

Ludwig glanced to the manga lying on his desk for what felt like the hundredth time. He had never joined in the manga craze; the intense anime fans had always scared him just a little. He thought it strange they could devote so much time and energy to a fictional series. And yet, Kiku seemed a balanced enough person. Sure, he had his oddities, but that was just his… Japanese-ness, wasn't it? That wasn't racist, right? Anyway, he was a straight-A student in a difficult field… and his drawing had piqued Ludwig's curiosity. If this series could capture the attention of a science major, maybe it was worth a try… and it wasn't like he was getting anywhere with Saint Augustine. He could always hole himself up in the library tomorrow…

After assuaging his dutiful conscience and assiduous ethics with enough justification, he reached tentatively for the magazine and settled down on his bed.

It took a while to get used to the right-to-left direction of the panels and the idiosyncratic-seeming flow of the action, which must have had to do with conventions of the genre but which were completely different from any Western comics Ludwig had read, but after a while Ludwig found he was enjoying himself, much to his surprise. It was a historical drama of sorts, and he had always had a soft spot for those—the costume dramas on Masterpiece Theatre were his guilty pleasure—since they coincided with his general interest in history. Perhaps, though, he was overanalyzing why he enjoyed what was simply a good storyline.

When Feliciano finally came bouncing back into the room and handed Ludwig the sticky notes he had taken from his desk (because he was sure such an awesome roommate wouldn't mind) Ludwig barely looked up from his reading, though he was forced to pause long enough to give a cursory explanation of the previous night's events. Thankfully, Feliciano soon contented himself with watching a TV show on his laptop rather than pestering his roommate, and Ludwig was able to return his attention to the manga.

Then his phone rang. Irritated, he glanced at it. It was Gilbert once again. He should have expected it—did anyone else ever call him?

"Hi Gilbert."

"Well don't sound so cheery. Just callin' to check up on you. You busy or something?"

He glanced at the magazine in front of him. "Uh… not really."

"Well, you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, normal."

"Those jeans didn't give you too bad a wedgie then?"

"…No. Uh, I'll wash those before I give them back."

"Aw thanks!"

"…"

"…Um… well, I guess that's it, heh… glad you're feeling okay…"

"Yeah…"

"…Alright, then, see you—"

"Ah, wait, Gilbert?"

"Yeah Lud?"

"I… I really do appreciate you helping me out this morning. I… didn't get a chance to say… but, anyway, thanks."

"Kesese, of course Luddy! That's what awesome brothers like me are for. See you soon, okay?"

"Okay."

"G'night!"

"Good night, Gilbert."

"Sleep tight!"

"You too."

"Don't let the bed bugs—"

"Got it, okay."

"Right. Sweet dreams!"

"…I'm hanging up now…"

"Not if I beat you to it!"

_Click._

…

Ludwig was slightly surprised when Feliciano switched his lamp off and crawled into bed. He hadn't realized it had gotten so late, he had been so engrossed in his reading. Turned out comics weren't necessarily a quick read.

He flipped through the remaining pages. Surely it wouldn't take that long to finish… and better to have it out of the way now and stay up just a little later than to leave it to tempt him while he was finishing all his homework tomorrow…

Feeling just a twinge of guilt, but not enough to stop him, Ludwig snuggled closer into his pillow and continued to read by his lamp and the moonlight streaming in through the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: more character introductions, plus-Ludwig finds out something very... interesting about his new hobby.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey! Hey, wait up!"

Ludwig turned to see a beaming face directed towards him in the midst of the crowd streaming from the door of his Western Lit class. It was Mathias, the boy he usually sat across from.

Mathias caught up. "Hi. You're Ludwig, right?"

"Yes."

"I'm Mathias, nice to meet you officially!" He extended his hand.

"You too." Ludwig took it firmly, but was nowhere near ready for the death grip and enthusiastic handshake that Mathias gave.

"So, Ludwig, you're a freshman right?"

"Yes…"

"Cool! Welcome to the best school in the state. Hell, why not the East coast, or no, the whole country, right?"

"Thank you?"

"You're welcome! Anway, Lud—do you mind if I call you that?—I'm in my second year here, so you can let me know if there's anything you need, right? But more to the point, I'm starting a literary discussion group this year. Good ol' Kirkland's agreed to supervise, but mostly it'll be student run, and it'll supplement the Western Lit curriculum pretty well, I think. Anyway, you seem like the kind of guy who might be interested, right?"

Mathias had slung an arm around Ludwig's shoulders and begun walking down the corridor with him, but here he stopped and turned to grin at him. Ludwig blinked a few times.

"Well, I've never been in a book club before, but—"

"Literary discussion group." Mathias smiled. 

"Right… Well, it does sound interesting. What would be involved?"

"Oh, you know, the usual… nothin' too heavy of course, I know you're probably busy and all. So I'm thinkin' no Russian novels, right? We'll keep it short and sweet, meet every other Tuesday at seven in the classroom here. So first meeting would be tomorrow."

"Perhaps I could do that…"

"Great! And hey, bring friends, okay? We're gonna make this thing big! But I mean, not too big for effective literary discussion, obviously. See you tomorrow then!"

And with that he was off.

Ludwig stood for a moment, thinking. In person Mathias wasn't quite the thoughtful, eloquent speaker he was in class. But maybe in the setting of a book club—or literary discussion, whatever it was supposed to be—it would be alright. He could hope.

…

"So what is this meeting for again?" Feliciano asked blithely as Ludwig lead him and Herakles across campus to his Western Lit classroom.

"It's a book club. Or a literary… thing, what have you."

"Oh! Sounds fun! Do they serve food there?"

"Uh, I don't know. Maybe some snacks."

"Oh good!"

Feliciano bounced happily alongside him, and Ludwig tried to remember why he had invited his roommate along. He glanced back at the silent Greek, lagging slightly behind, and remembered it was probably because he hadn't wanted only his taciturn company. Though Feliciano was a handful, he had an ability to diffuse tense situations, which Ludwig admired quite a lot, as he never did well with new acquaintances. It seemed the Italian was immune to awkwardness, or maybe just oblivious to it.

"We should hurry, or we'll be late," he urged the others.

Mathias beamed when they stepped through the door.

"Lud! Glad you made it! And you brought more! Great! Pick your seats, we'll start shortly."

Ludwig scanned the large table in the middle of the room. Most of the seats were still open, so he sat down between Feliciano and Herakles at one end.

Professor Kirkland was seated at a spare desk in the corner, grading papers. He glanced up and caught Ludwig's eye, giving a small smile.

"Good to see you here, Ludwig."

Ludwig nodded. "Hello, professor. How are you?"

"Oh, jolly good, thanks. Please help yourself to some of the snacks on the table I brought." He went back to his work.

Feliciano reached eagerly for a brownie, and Ludwig was about to do likewise when he saw his roommate take on bite and turn positively grey, and decided against it. Feliciano set the brownie down, looking traumatized, and tried to discreetly spit into a napkin without much success. Luckily, Kirkland was absorbed in his paperwork.

There were only four others already seated, talking quietly amongst themselves or sitting silently as seven o'clock came and went, much to Ludwig's chagrin. If he had made the effort to drag two lollygagging suitemates here on time, why couldn't they start the meeting at the appointed hour?

At ten after seven, Mathias seemed to realize no one else was coming. He stood.

"Okay then, hello everybody! Why don't we get started with introductions? I'm Mathias Densen, I'm a sophomore, and I'm president of this club!"

Ludwig and his companions followed suit, giving their names and years.

An anxious brunet to Herakles' right spoke next. "Hi, I'm Toris Laurinaitis, freshman also."

The blond next to him bit his lip as he glanced around. "Feliks Łukasiewicz, freshman."

A tall, rather intimidating boy with glasses sitting across the table was next. "…Berwald. Oxenstierna. Senior."

The smaller boy next to him giggled nervously. "Heh, I'm Tino Väinämöinen, and I'm a junior. Nice to meet you all!"

"Great! Glad you all decided to join," exclaimed Mathias.

"Only 'cause y'made us," grunted Berwald. Tino laughed nervously again.

Mathias ignored this. "So… no girls?" He frowned. "Oh, well, except you, Feliks. Forgot."

"Hey! Just because I like skirts doesn't make me a girl!"

Ludwig glanced towards him, alarmed, but he couldn't see if he was in fact wearing a skirt beneath the table or not.

"Right, well—" Mathias was cut off by the door opening.

"Sorry we're late!" breathed the newcomer, panting slightly.

Ludwig glanced up and was surprised to see Elizaveta, followed closely by Roderich.

Mathias brightened instantly. "Not a problem! Take a seat!"

Elizaveta caught sight of Ludwig as she made her way around the table. "Oh, hey Lud!"

Roderich looked over and smiled lightly. Ludwig nodded back.

They made their introductions, and the meeting was underway.

When Mathias asked for suggestions for their first selection, it was Herakles who unexpectedly spoke first, though Ludwig had thought he looked to be in a stupor.

"We should read an ancient Greek work. In my opinion, the classics are underrepresented in most of the literature classes here. It's a shame, really. That's where it all started, isn't it? The Greeks gave us democracy, art, poetry, theater, architecture, philosophy—"

"Crushing debt," muttered Feliks.

Herakles frowned. "Well, it's not like that's our fault."

Roderich coughed skeptically.

Herakles glared at him. "Well, if Germany would stop being such fascists when it comes to their banks—"

Ludwig flinched. Herakles was sounding uncharacteristically worked up. "That's a little uncalled for, Herakles—"

"Well it's true! It was a few corrupt idiots who got us into this, and now the rest of the European Union is willing to risk financial stability for a bit of retribution!"

Feliciano looked over, confused. "I thought you were from Chicago… Why are you so angry?"

This comment went ignored as the others jumped in. The clamor rose as the debate continued to rage back and forth across the table.

Kirkland glanced up uneasily. Ludwig sat back, pinching the bridge of his nose. Were they a bunch of kindergartners, for God's sake?

"ENOUGH already!" he finally burst out, slamming a hand on the table. "This is supposed to be a book club!"

"Literary di—"

"Be quiet, Mathias! You're president, you're supposed to keep order here! Now let's discuss what we came to discuss like civilized beings!"

Everyone stared at Ludwig in shock for a moment. He would have been embarrassed if it hadn't been for the blood pounding furiously through his temples. Honestly, what was so difficult about sticking to an agenda?

Slowly, eyes shifted away in shame and discomfort as the silence lengthened.

Finally Feliciano spoke up. "Hey, I'm hungry! Anyone want to go get pizza after this?"

Blank faces turned to the Italian.

Ludwig gritted his teeth, but then Mathias laughed.

Ludwig blinked, before noticing the smiles of mirth spreading around the table. He sighed. It seemed Feliciano had done it again. Even Herakles didn't look quite so sour.

Mathias cleared his throat. "Well, if we're going to stay on topic, pizza will have to wait, right? So, let's talk books!"

…

After another half hour of mostly pointless discussion, it was decided. Much to Herakles' satisfaction, the selection was Plato's "Symposium."

After Mathias adjourned the meeting, Elizaveta stood first.

"Hey, guys, I have an announcement before you all go! As vice president of the LGBTA club, I'd like to announce the upcoming Pride Day on campus! It's in two weeks, and if you're interested in helping to organize then you should come to the meeting this Thursday! I know a lot of you are in the club, so I expect to see your smiling faces, people. But even if you can't help out, of course everyone's welcome to the first monthly dance sponsored by the club on Pride day! Thanks everyone, hope to see you there!"

She smiled cheerily and walked out, hand-in-hand with Roderich.

Ludwig vaguely wondered why she was vice president of the LGBTA club, when she was dating a guy, and had only ever dated guys, as far as Ludwig knew. He shrugged it off before realizing the implications of something else she had said. 'A lot of you are in the club…' Ludwig glanced around. He wondered to whom, exactly, she had been referring.

…

Ludwig pulled the stack of Kiku's pristine manga books towards him curiously. He had eagerly devoured the second volume since the weekend, and Kiku had suggested he borrow his few English doujinshis to supplement the official series. He had been slightly skeptical at first, as he had always been of the intimidating and foreign world of fanworks. Surely there was no way they could live up to the original, right?

Yet, as Ludwig had sat on his bed skimming an incredibly dull chapter on neuron-firing in his psychology text book, he had found himself itching for more of that storyline, more of those characters. Kiku was out, so he couldn't go asking for volume three (not to mention it would be a little embarrassing, as well as rude for having rejected Kiku's suggestion). And so he began hesitantly flipping through the selection in front of him.

Some of the artwork was downright gorgeous, he had to admit (though only to himself), and a few of the story summaries had him intrigued against his better judgment. One cover made him blush slightly, as it showed the main hero and heroine in a rather… intimate position. More than a little surprised at Kiku's tastes, he quickly shoved it to the bottom of the pile. What would Feliciano think if he knew he had manga porn in the room? Of course, Ludwig had come across his fair share of "hentai" while surfing for porn, but it was something he tended to associate with nerdy and slightly creepy losers. That wasn't exactly Kiku, though—polite, quiet, innocent-looking Kiku.

What he saw next in the stack, however, stopped him dead.

What. The. Fuck?

Once again, two of the main characters were depicted in a shamelessly sexual position. Only this time, both of them were most definitely male.

Ludwig stared, too shocked to shove the magazine aside. Those men… they were supposed to be friends! Just friends! What the hell was this? Someone's perverted fantasy?!

Ludwig continued to stare. He couldn't tear his eyes away, in fact. They ate in every minute, sick detail of the disturbing scene.

Then his hand reached out and flipped open the cover. He couldn't recall giving the mental command for it to do so, but before he could comprehend what he was doing, there was a full two pages-worth of explicit homoerotic material spread before him in full color panels.

He felt like a driver passing by a highway accident, knowing he shouldn't look, but looking anyway to satisfy some morbid sense of curiosity. What these two _men_ were doing to each other… he hadn't even realized was possible. And maybe it wasn't possible—maybe it was simply the product of the artist's wildest sexual dreams. He had no way of knowing.

It's not that he was a prude—far from it. Though Ludwig was uncomfortable, to say the least, with discussing personal experiences of that sort (of which he had practically zilch, except with his talented right hand), he had as much of a perverted mind as any teenager, if not more so, as he had discovered a strong inclination for BDSM and had become somewhat of a connoisseur over the past few years. No one who knew him would ever guess it, though—he did an exquisite job of hiding his private preferences, though that wasn't difficult, given he avoided the topic like the plague. To Ludwig, the world of leather, whips, and kinky contraptions was a heady fantasy so far removed from his reality that even seeing men do a million brutal things to women and women do a million sadistic things to men didn't make him any more comfortable with the topic or prospect of sex itself.

But _this_ —this was something completely different, and somehow Ludwig got the feeling that what he was looking at was far more deviant in a way than any bondage porno he had ever watched. And perhaps it was that—that tantalizing taste of taboo—that led him to keep reading.

 _Not_ that he was turned on by any of it! It was just so… different, and weird, how could he not be a little curious? Of course he was horrified more than anything else, though. He had grown to quite like these characters and seeing them in such a different, _explicit_ light was… unsettling… Yes, he decided that was the best word to describe the strange surging sensations in his stomach.

Ludwig was carefully examining an illustration of one boy—flushed, jaw slack, eyes lidded—with undue fascination when he caught himself practically mirroring the expression. Swallowing thickly and licking his suddenly dry lips, he found it difficult to keep a straight face as he looked at the next few panels, which depicted an amazingly wet blow job. There was something much too appealing about those unrealistically ubiquitous strings and spurts of saliva a pre-cum, not to mention the positively edible look of the boy providing the ministrations. It was a look Ludwig associated solely with women, and it was confusing in this context… but then, the character was drawn so elegantly here, it made him seem slightly feminine—that must be why Ludwig's body was responding the way it was…

Almost absently, a hand snaked down to his crotch, where a slight but undeniable bulge was forming under his slacks. A single finger pressed down and traced along the seam line of his pants, creating the tiniest bit of teasing friction along his concealed shaft, and ooh… that felt so nice right there…

Wait. No. No fucking way. There was no way in hell that Ludwig was going to jack off to _GAY manga_ porn. Or even get hard to it! He slammed the book shut and quickly stuffed the volumes away in a desk drawer, panting slightly and heart pounding.

He sat, slightly dazed and confused, and left with a slight… problem, down there. Embarrassed, even though there was no one to see, and feeling angry with himself, Ludwig wondered if that cold shower trick really worked. Maybe it was time to find out.

…

Feliciano was sprawled out on the lounge couch, using Ludwig's arm for a pillow while reading a textbook. Ludwig was not exactly a willing cushion, but had given up pushing his overly-physical roommate away after the sixth or seventh time. He buried his nose further in his copy of "The Symposium" and tried to ignore Feliciano's absent-minded humming.

"How far are you?" a sleepy voice behind him inquired.

Ludwig turned towards Herakles in the window seat, and was surprised to see his legs stretched over Kiku's lap, and even more surprised that the Japanese boy seemed okay with the situation. Could he possibly have become more comfortable with "Western ways" than even Ludwig within the past few weeks?

"Uh, Aristophanes' speech," he answered distractedly.

"Oh, that's my favorite. The myth of the androgynes."

Ludwig gave him a questioning look.

"You know, his theory about people having once been two people put together until Zeus tore them apart? Or haven't you read that yet?"

"Oh, right, I just didn't know that's what it was called."

"Mm. Yeah. It's quite romantic, don't you think? Everyone searching the face of the earth for their lost half…" He trailed off dreamily.

"I guess… though the image of people being stuck together back-to-back is a little strange… and being both male and female at once."

"Well, not all of them were, though. Remember, he says some people were two men, and others were two women, and that's where gays and lesbians come from."

"Well, still sounds awkward."

Herakles smiled slightly. "No it's not, it's the ideal of love! The idea you were made for someone… And the fact he includes homosexuals adds to the appeal, I think. He's accepting love in all its different forms. Isn't it amazing, that an ancient myth on the origins of love actually includes a legitimization of homosexual love?"

Ludwig could feel heat rising in his cheeks, but fought against it. It shouldn't be embarrassing to discuss this! It was practically an academic conversation! "Uh, yes! Yes, quite amazing."

"But then, the Greeks did feel quite differently towards homosexuality than our society today… you know, it was seen as the norm for men to take younger boys as lovers."

"Ah, yes, I was reading that in here as well..." Ludwig indicated the book, though he had to look down to hide his flushed face.

"Yeah… it was considered the purest form of love. Don't you think it's so interesting that they seemed to assume any man could have homosexual urges? Even if he was married? And that such relations were beneficial for the development of a boy… his lover was his mentor, too. Wouldn't things be different if that were still the case…"

Ludwig swallowed. "Yes, I imagine they would be." He had to struggle to keep the strain out of his voice. But this was ridiculous—why was he so uncomfortable with a mere theoretical discussion about homosexuality in ancient Greece?

When he managed to meet Herakles' eyes again, he was frowning slightly at Ludwig.

"Do you feel uncomfortable talking about this?" he wondered slowly.

"N-no! Why… why should I feel uncomfortable?"

"You're not homophobic, are you?"

"Of course not!" God, why did he have to be so awkward about everything? People were bound to get the wrong impression, but he honestly had nothing against gays!

"Hm. Are you gay?"

Ludwig blanched. "Wh—NO! …I mean, no, of course not."

"Saying 'of course not' is a hetero-normative assumption. Why does it have to be 'of course?'"

The color now rushed back into Ludwig's face. Frustrated and flustered, he huffed, "I just mean I'm not gay, okay? It's simple."

Herakles considered him for a moment as Ludwig turned his attention determinedly back to Plato. "Then… you should come with us to the LGBTA meeting."

Ludwig's head snapped back around. "I just said I'm not gay!"

Herakles raised an eyebrow. "But the 'A' stands for 'Allies,' you know. So, if you're against bullying, and for equality, you'd fall under the 'Allies' category. And Kiku and Feliciano are coming along, too."

Ludwig sighed. "I'm busy Thursday," he muttered. Thankfully, Herakles left it at that.

As he turned back around on the couch, Ludwig caught sight of Kiku, who had stayed surprisingly quiet the whole time. It looked as though he hadn't been paying attention, except for the bright blush he was now hiding with his hands supporting his head. Ludwig suddenly remembered the doujinshi lying in his desk drawer and wondered what Kiku's take on all this would be.

Feliciano, unperturbed, was still humming blithely.

…

"Gilbert… what was your first time like?" Ludwig swallowed hard and looked at his brother.

Red eyes glanced up in surprise, but just as quickly glanced away. "Why do you ask?" he wondered lightly, twirling his fork around his fingers.

"Um… just… curious I guess…" Ludwig trailed off, feeling the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks. Maybe it had been a mistake to ask. Yet, ever since last weekend, ever since that party, he had felt like he had to know.

"Something wrong?"

Ludwig looked up to see Gilbert's appraising eyes trained on him.

"…No."

Skepticism flashed across the albino's face for a moment, but then he sat back and shrugged.

"Well… sophomore year of high school I was at a party, got a little drunk, and there was this girl I liked… I guess she was pretty drunk too… but anyway, she got flirty, I was horny, so… we borrowed a spare room and did it," he said simply. It was as if he was relating someone else's story rather than his own.

"…Oh."

Gilbert shrugged again and took a bite of potatoes from his plate.

"Did you… go out or anything?"

"No… she wouldn't look at me after that."

"Oh."

"Eh, no biggie. That was six fuckin' years ago." He shrugged again and gulped down some milk, keeping his eyes on the table.

Suddenly, he looked back up at Ludwig with a grin. "Hey, I hear you pulled a real Ludwig on everyone at the book club the other day."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He frowned, wondering if he had changed the subject on purpose.

"I mean you let your inner dominant control-freak really shine through." His grin widened.

"Is that what Roderich said? Because all I did was try to keep people on topic; it was getting out of hand," he huffed defensively.

Gilbert smirked dreamily. "That's my little bro!" he cooed, then sniggered at Ludwig's frown. "Actually I think Roddy was impressed, but they don't know you like I do."

Ludwig let out a snort.

"Anyway how was it? I hope Mr. Prissy-pants didn't hold forth the entire time."

"No, we were just picking a book."

"Mm. Sounds boring. Glad I didn't go after all. Liz wanted to drag me along, said it would be good for me to get off my ass."

"Well, it's not like you do much, Gilbert. Maybe she's right."

"Not true! I have a meeting to go to this evening, in fact."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, the LGBTA club. Liz is VP."

"…"

"…You okay Lud?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Um yeah, some of my friends said they were going…"

"Oh, you should come!"

He was spared from answering when he caught sight of a familiar figure walking into the diner where he and Gilbert were seated. The man caught sight of him and smiled, walking towards him.

"Hello professor!"

Gilbert glanced over his shoulder to see who it was and immediately snapped back around, dropping his head to stare intently at his plate and hunching his shoulders.

"Hello there, Lud—…wig…" Professor Kirkland seemed to catch sight of Gilbert halfway through his greeting, his smile faltering as he stared for a second. A strange expression flitted across his features, but the Englishman collected himself before Ludwig could be really sure he had seen it.

Kirkland cleared his throat. "It was good to see you at the book club the other day, Ludwig! I'm always glad to see students eager to pursue literature outside the classroom." He beamed a bit too brightly.

"Well, reading is a great interest of mine, and it seems like we'll be covering material quite different from anything in class."

"Yes, yes…" His eyes flickered to Gilbert, who was still as a statue. "That's what Matthias said he wanted to do… good idea too…" He glanced back at the silent albino, and for a moment it seemed that he was going to say something else, but then he flashed another grin at Ludwig. "Well, good day, see you in class tomorrow!" He turned on his heel and walked back out of the diner.

Ludwig frowned slightly. No one walked into a restaurant just to say a quick hello to a student.

He looked back at his brother, whose head was still down. Ludwig couldn't make out the expression on his face.

"What the hell was that about, Gilbert?" he growled. "You were a student of his too! That was rude! He obviously wanted you to say something."

"He's the book club supervisor?" Gilbert asked without looking up.

"Yes."

Gilbert was silent for a moment. Then, "You should quit."

"What?" Ludwig spluttered.

Finally Gilbert looked up, but his face was completely impassive. He shrugged. "I don't like his teaching methods."

"I thought you said he was good!"

"…At some things." He went back to shoving potatoes into his mouth.

Ludwig sighed in exasperation. "Whatever. That was still rude. And besides, it's not like he talks at the meetings, Mathias said all discussions will be student-run. I still think you should join."

"No fanks," he mumbled around a mouthful of food.

"Gilbert!"

"Whuh?"

"Chew and swallow before you speak!"

"Yeth dad," he mocked, showing off the half-masticated contents of his mouth.

"You're gross."

Gilbert swallowed. "You know what you should do:" he pointed his fork at his younger brother, "come to the meeting with me tonight."

Ludwig sighed. "My suitemates already asked me. I've got too much work."

"Bullshit. It'll be super quick, it's just introductions or whatever."

"Well I don't want to."

Gilbert shot him a weird look. "Why not?"

His face was heating up again. "Because… because… well isn't it obvious?"

"Uh… no…"

"Oh come on. It's not as if every person who doesn't attend an LGBTA meeting hates gays!"

"What the fuck are you talking about, Lud? I know you don't hate gays…"

His cheeks were burning. "Then why does it seem like every single person I know is going to this meeting? They're not all gay, obviously!"

Gilbert had the same weird look on his face, half discomfort, half confusion. "Well… um, I can't speak for them but… I'm bi, you know."

Ludwig's jaw dropped.

He gaped at his brother for a solid few seconds before remembering himself. He closed his mouth and swallowed, looking down. "No, I didn't know…"

"Um, well, now you do!"

"…When did that start?" Ludwig asked, slightly dazed.

Gilbert snorted. "What d'you mean, 'when did it start?' When I was born, far as I'm concerned!"

"No, I…" Ludwig sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I mean, when did you… figure it out?"

Gilbert shrugged. "I think I've always kinda known… never even kissed a guy till I got here, though. Actually, since I got to college I've been with mostly guys. Heh, and Liz hardly even counts as a girl."

Ludwig felt much too hot as he stared at his lap. Mostly guys…? His brother… kissing guys… being _with_ guys?

"Uh… Lud… don't tell Dad, right?"

He looked up and saw Gilbert's face creased with worry. "Of… of course not."

The albino gave an uneasy grin. "Thanks. I mean, you know Dad, he's so old-fashioned, he'd probably freak."

Ludwig swallowed and forced himself to speak. "Yeah… probably."

He was having a hard time not freaking himself.

…

In the end, Ludwig did not go to the meeting with Gilbert, despite the elder's teasing complaints about doing his duty for his bisexual brother. And he was determined not to feel guilty about it.

He only felt a twinge of regret when the rest of his suitemates arrived back later that night talking and laughing happily about the people they had met and excitedly discussing the plans for the dance (though that was mostly just Feliciano).

He felt slightly guiltier when he turned down their invitation to go out drinking the next night with some of their new friends, because they were sure they'd love to meet Ludwig since they were all so friendly, etc., etc. That, Ludwig reasoned with himself, was not because of the company, but because he had vowed not to touch alcohol for the time being.

And that was why, on a Friday night, Ludwig was lying alone on his bed, staring dejectedly at the ceiling and wishing the people outside in the hall and lounge would be a bit quieter. Jeez, did they want the RA to come bust them for the Jack Daniels and Absolut they had stashed in the couch cushions—an idiotic hiding spot in the first place? But then, he hadn't seen the RA since day one… he vaguely wondered if he really lived there at all.

Ludwig sighed. He hadn't spoken to Gilbert since their dinner yesterday. Usually his brother called or at least texted on a daily basis, but he hadn't heard a peep from him.

His brother. His bisexual, man-fucking brother.

Ludwig shook his head, trying to rid his mind of those thoughts. While he was still struggling to wrap his brain around the concept, he really didn't want too full an understanding of what all his brother… did.

It was too bizarre. He had known Gilbert his entire life, and in Ludwig's eyes he had always been the girl-chaser and a bit of a player. But then, he hadn't been around Gilbert much in the past three years…

The image of the needy, lustful boy from the doujinshi flashed into his mind, and it created cosmic dissonance juxtaposed with brash, confidence-oozing Gilbert Beilschmidt. But then, maybe his brother didn't look like that when he—ugh, never mind, he wasn't going to think about whether Gilbert "topped" or "bottomed"… though he definitely seemed like a—NO! Not going there, not going there…

Ludwig felt restless. He needed something to focus on, something to take his mind off this, something to do. Maybe he should jack off to porn.

His eyes shifted to his laptop. Something really, really kinky, really twisted and wrong, ought to do the trick…

And then, as if his brain was subconsciously providing the answer for him, his eyes fell on the drawer with the abandoned manga books inside.

He only hesitated for a second before darting his hand out to open the drawer and grab the volume that still lay on the top of the stack.

There it was again, those two men posed so provocatively on the front, looking out at the viewer as if to say, "Come on in…"

Ludwig grimaced as he accepted the silent invitation. Why again did he want to read this now, of all times?

But all questions of why were forgotten as the pages turned and his eyes devoured the scandalous illustrations before him. He was enthralled by the exquisite expressions, the naughty details of the genitals so futilely and almost farcically censored with tiny little strips of white in a few key locations, and most of all by the positions these two males assumed in order to fuck each other; they were perversions of something familiar, now made completely foreign to him. But foreign was intriguing.

With almost every new panel Ludwig could feel a tingling jolt of electricity shoot through his gut and groin. At this rate, he would have to forgo his promise of not masturbating to this type of thing… but that was probably because he had already wanted beat one off before he even started reading…

Just then, he heard the outer door to the suite open and some sort of scuffle in the entryway, then the bang of the partner room's door closing. There was a bit of scraping of furniture, and Ludwig was alarmed when he heard what must have been a chair toppling over.

He held absolutely still and silent, straining his ears to listen through the wall. Luckily the lounge crowd had moved down the hall a ways to another suite, by the subdued sounds of it.

More scuffling. Then the creak of mattress springs and… a moan?

Ludwig's eyes widened. Who knew how paper-thin these walls were until a situation like this came up? If Herakles had brought another girl back, Ludwig would hear _everything_ …

"Oooohh, Herakles…" came the muffled moan. But wait, that voice sounded familiar…

A grunt. That was definitely Herakles. Another grunt, louder, and then he keened "Kikuuu—"

Ludwig's mind went blank.

… _Kiku?_

_…Herakles?_

His suitemates were—

The loud groan of two undeniably male voices intermingling cut off his thoughts.

Okay. They were definitely, positively, _having sex_ this very instant in the bed on the other side of a cinderblock wall, in reality mere feet from where Ludwig lay.

It was too much.

Mortified, confused, and horny as hell, Ludwig leapt off the bed and speed-walked to the suite bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. He was already palming himself through his pants as he strode from door to shower and pulled the curtain closed for a greater sense of privacy.

Furious fingers worked to unbutton and unzip him, then reach into his boxers and grab hold of his hot, half-stiff member. He whipped out his dick and began pumping furiously as he spit into his free left hand. A string of drool followed it down to his shaft as he slathered the velvety flesh with the thick liquid, allowing his hand to glide more smoothly, quickly, creating the friction and pressure he so desperately needed.

He jammed his forefinger into the slit as his other fingers worked his head ruthlessly, and gasping, he slouched into the cool tile wall of the shower, face contorting with the unbearable pleasure.

With his other hand, he traced along the large vein on the underside. He had to bite his lip to keep his sounds to himself. Scrunching his eyes shut, he allowed his whole being to be focused into those points of terrible bliss as he mercilessly teased himself.

When he couldn't stand it any longer, he returned to pumping, long, slow, firm strokes at first. He spit again and watched the saliva drop in a satisfying line from lip to cock, and, spreading it around and along his whole considerable length, sped up again, beating a frenzied tempo of driving lust.

His left hand reached down to squeeze and fondle his balls gently, pushing him closer to overwhelming ecstasy.

He could feel the heat in his groin, the building pressure as he neared release. Never slacking in his pace, he continued is his fervent assault, drawing closer and closer to the inevitable end—

Ludwig's mind wracked about for an image to cling to in the last moment and push him over the edge into blissful oblivion. All at once and unsolicited, the pages of the doujinshi, Kiku and Herakles in the throes of lovemaking, and Gilbert's smirking face flashed before his eyes, but it was too late to stop himself.

"HnnNGH—!" He couldn't hold back the strained noise in his throat as he came helplessly and hard on the shower floor.

Panting, he melted back against the wall and slid slowly down to a crouching position. He couldn't bring himself to form a coherent thought as he watched his pearly cum pool on the shower floor, too viscous to make its way to the drain.

He stared at the innocently white yet darkly incriminating substance.

What had just happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Poor Ludwig gets even more confused, and then comes an interesting brotherly bonding experience.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Reviews, comments, thoughts and all are very much appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5, Part 1

"Luddyyy, you didn't answer my text!" Feliciano wailed as he charged through the door, flailing his arms and brandishing his phone in one hand and what appeared to be a cupcake in the other.

Ludwig turned in his desk chair, wincing at his roommate's whining.

"Uh, sorry, I was working."

"Oh… Well, I just wanted know what flavor you wanted… leftovers from the meeting," he muttered, shrugging sheepishly as he held out the cupcake. "I thought maybe chocolate…?"

Ludwig blinked at the proffered sweet in surprise. "Oh, um, thank you, Feli… that was thoughtful of you." He took the cupcake and bent his head down, pretending to inspect it, so Feliciano would not catch sight of the blush he could feel heating his cheeks. "Chocolate is fine." He couldn't help but let the corners of his mouth curl up in the slightest of smiles.

"Oh good! I was so worried I would come back with the cupcake and you'd tell me you hated chocolate and then I'd feel so stupid because I could have just as easily gone with vanilla but you know I've always thought vanilla is so bland and chocolate is so much better and I was wondering if you could read over my essay before I hand it in!"

It took Ludwig a moment to process the request slipped in at the end of the typically babbling rant. He'd grown used to blocking out that sort of thing, luckily, but he was equally used to Feliciano's pitiful whines for help with his homework by now.

He sighed, hand finding the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Feliciano—oh fine. Let me just… finish this up, first." He gestured vaguely to his laptop.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" Feliciano flung himself at Ludwig for a quick hug of gratitude. His thin arms belied his strength, and Ludwig found himself gasping for air at the tight squeeze. Before he could do anything to protest, however, Feliciano was already back across the room at his own desk, humming happily.

"Oh, you really should have come to the meeting today, Luddy! The plans for the dance are looking sooo fun! You are coming, right?"

Ludwig sighed. Each of his suitemates and his brother had all been involved in planning the LGBTA club dance and for the past week it seemed to come up in every conversation they had. Ludwig wasn't sure if the slight hostility he felt towards the subject was more reluctance to take part in the event or jealousy at not having been a part of all the excitement building up to it. Nevertheless, he felt he had no choice but to attend, especially with Gilbert pressuring him constantly.

"Yes, I'll be there," he sighed.

"Yay! Oh don't worry, you'll love it Lud!"

"I'm sure."

Ludwig glanced over his shoulder as Feliciano began clicking away at his own laptop, full of vibrant energy as ever. Try as he might, he still simply could not understand this boy he was forced to share a room with. Not that he always minded so much; Feliciano seemed to be making an effort with Ludwig, after all, though Ludwig didn't know why he hadn't given up long ago. He felt slightly guilty for all the times he got frustrated with his well-intentioned roommate, and tried to make up for it by helping with his homework when he asked (which was all too often). Perhaps that was why these small, random acts of kindness kept occurring, like the cupcake today. Feliciano hadn't given up on being friends, despite Ludwig's terseness, and he had to admit he was grateful for it.

But sometimes he wondered if there wasn't something else behind those actions. Feliciano seemed like the type of guy who could be enthusiastic about anything, but the way he went on about the LGBTA club and his ideas for future events and all… Ludwig wasn't sure if it was just a group he happened to like and fit into, or if he _really_ felt at home there—if he fit in because of more than his flamboyant personality. There didn't seem to be many straight people in the club, after all, except perhaps Liz. Even Herakles and Kiku were now officially a couple.

Feliciano had never done anything to make Ludwig uncomfortable, or at least not more than the all-too-frequent hug, but still, the possibility made Ludwig wonder. He found himself more reluctant to change in the open, to walk around without a shirt, and other such small things. Feliciano never seemed to be watching, though, and he always looked so innocent; Ludwig concluded he was probably just being ridiculous.

Ludwig, on the other hand, did watch Feliciano. Closely. Trying to gauge every gesture, weigh every action. The way he'd rub his hands over his bare torso when he inspected himself in the mirror: was he trying to catch his attention? Because it was working. How could he not stare at the way he practically vogued whenever he tried on a new outfit? But Feliciano seemed not to notice or care. Sly bastard. Or oblivious nitwit. He had a suspicion it was the latter.

Ludwig sighed silently, once again foiled in his attempt to glean something deeper of his roommate's psyche as the happy brunet checked his Facebook updates. Ludwig turned back to his desk and looked at the cupcake for a moment before picking it up, carefully peeling away the wax paper, then devouring the whole thing in two disgruntled bites.

…

He clicked the link tentatively. He was still half afraid of what he knew he would find here, but anticipation and curiousity had a stronger pull on him.

Ludwig had timidly asked Kiku where he could find more doujinshis, too embarrassed to admit he had waited until he had been through Kiku's English collection two and half times already. The Japanese boy had graciously directed him to this fan-run website, among others, and he figured there was no harm indulging a little now, since he had finished his assignments for the day.

The page was loading, and he could feel his heart beating in the same anxious rhythm as it had on his first forays into hardcore pornography years before.

Now it was up—nothing remarkable at first. Indexes of scanlated doujinshis, fanfictions, a gallery of images… maybe he would start there. A gallery seemed safe. Start one picture at a time. Doujinshis meant more emotional investment than he wanted at the moment, even for the ones that were mostly sex. And fanfiction… well that was a whole other can of worms, one he had no desire to open just now.

And there they were. Image after image of men… Men with men. Giving each other seductive looks, kisses, blowjobs… Why was he looking at this again? But they were all so beautiful. It was eye candy. It was porn. It was art. It was confusing as shit.

Ludwig allowed his eyes to linger on the sensuous lines of strong, masculine bodies pressed together, savoring the suggestive coloring, the heightened emotion that, ironically, could never be matched by a live-action video. And so much of the pleasure came from knowing these characters—as "different" as these interpretations were, the unique dynamics of their relationships added to the impact of each delicious illustration. These two were such close friends, those two were always bickering, these two were arch rivals, those two were brothers—

Ludwig did a double take.

He stared blankly at the screen.

_Huh?_

_…Brothers?_

_…_

_…_

_Ugh._

Who would draw something like that? That was just… ew. No. They were _brothers_ , for Christ sakes! Why… What on earth… What the fuck?

He read the caption and comments several times over. "Inspired by this super HOT fic! [link]" followed by "Excuse me while I wipe the drool and blood off my keyboard," then "brothers. Yum. ^^;" and "Ohmygod YES. These two=WIN. ~~Incest is best! /Shot~~ " and many more similarly unintelligible expressions of enthusiasm. The fans seemed to speak a mysterious language all their own.

Ludwig had to cringe, though. Incest is best? Where the hell did that come from? What were these people thinking? Did none of them have siblings? Because this… this just wasn't right. Incest wasn't supposed to be sexy. It was gross. But all these people seemed so… _into_ it. Ludwig was pretty sure they couldn't all be sleeping with their brothers.

But that was just it! Maybe that was why. It was just fiction, after all, Ludwig reasoned. It wasn't like he would ever actually do the things people did in the porn he watched… or, well, at least not _everything_ they did.

But still. Finding Japanese rope bondage and fucking machines sexy was completely different from liking _incest_ , fictional or not. Or at least it ought to be, right? How... Why would these people want to see brothers kissing and fucking, let alone read about it? What did they find so appealing?

Ludwig looked back at the picture of the _brothers_ , doing things that brothers should never do. Objectively speaking, he supposed it was a pretty sexy picture. But it still made him squeamish.

Ludwig chewed the inside of his lip.

Well, he supposed there was really only one way to find out.

…

Ludwig finished reading, face brightly flushed. God was he glad Feliciano wasn't around. Or Gilbert. Oh God, Gilbert. His brother. His very own, flesh-and-blood brother. Whose face had happened to appear to him at the most embarrassingly inconvenient of moments only days before. Not that that meant anything. Ludwig was understandably confused, overwhelmed, and he had been thinking of Gilbert a lot recently simply due to the fact that this new information about his brother's sexuality changed _everything_ —and yet at the same time nothing. Gilbert was still Gilbert. He was still his brother.

Brother. What a strange word… Ludwig had always thought he knew what it meant, of course, and his idea of it was tied up intrinsically with a certain smirking, brash, doting albino. That was his brother. Now suddenly… The way it had been used in the story he had just read (had he really just finished reading a fanfiction? He never thought he'd see the day) was completely different. Phrases like "the taste of his brother's lips" and "he licked the tip of his brother's cock" were frankly thrown in among the rest as a matter of fact, making Ludwig's face hotter with each mention.

Even worse, though, was when the characters used the word. When they _moaned_ it and _screamed_ it. "Brother" was not supposed to be a sexy word. Reading the fic, though, one would think there was nothing more arousing in the world.

Brother. Ludwig tried to wrap his mind around it. He even tested it on his own tongue. "Brother," he whispered, and inevitably Gilbert came to mind again. Well of course he could say it though, there was nothing stopping him, but it seemed off.

"Brother," he said again, a little louder but not with complete conviction, so that his voice cracked a little. It was awkward speaking to an empty room. But why should he be so timid to say such a simple, innocent word?

Ludwig realized he was frowning slightly. He shook his head to clear it of unsettling thoughts.

Just then the door opened, and, heart pounding, Ludwig rushed to exit his browser. Not a moment too soon, either, for the next thing he knew an exuberant Italian was bounding over to him and shouting about his plans for that weekend. Weakly, Ludwig rested his head in his hands and compliantly listened to his roommate, almost grateful for the interruption for once.

…

"Gilbert, are you sure about this?" Ludwig glanced warily up at the high-rise.

Gilbert snorted. "Of course I'm sure! You need to get out more, bro."

"No, I mean—I don't even know them!"

"Well, he's a kinda sorta friend… Anyway a bunch of my crowd'll be there. And they wanna meet you, Lud! They've heard so much!"

Ludwig glared into his brother's smiling face. Since it was night, Gilbert's sunglasses were absent and he could look him right in the eye.

"What have you said about me?" he asked suspiciously.

"Just that you're as awesome as would befit the little brother of the awesome me," he replied frankly.

Ludwig sighed. "Whatever. Fine. But I'm leaving if I don't like it."

"You'll like it."

They were buzzed into the building and took the elevator up to the ninth floor. Ludwig could hear the music pounding and muffled voices shouting as soon as he stepped into the corridor. Gilbert dragged him to the door from behind which the raucous sounds were emanating, and Ludwig wondered if anyone would hear his brother ring the bell. Maybe no one would answer and he could still get out of this. His hopes were dashed, however, when the door opened to reveal a grinning, blond-haired blue-eyed boy with glasses slipping drunkenly down his nose.

"Yo, Gilbo!"the boy shouted, clapping Gilbert on the shoulder.

"'Sup, Al? Brought my little brother along! Lud, Alfred, Alfred, Lud," he hastily introduced as they were ushered into the flat.

Alfred shook Ludwig's hand enthusiastically. "Pleasure t'meetchya dude! I am the owner of this fine establishment, make yerself a' home!" He gestured broadly to the dimly lit interior. It was quite crowded already, especially around the bar. A few people had started dancing in a corner of the common area and all of the couch space had already been claimed.

"Thanks," Ludwig remembered to add, but Alfred was already wheeling away to chat up a busty short-haired blonde in the middle of the room.

"Heh, guy's plastered already," sniggered Gilbert, looking after their host.

"Yeah…"

"Just watch, he's gonna make a fool out of himself real soon. He's been trying to get with her since, like, freshman year, but—no ice!"

Gilbert smirked and turned to scan the room.

"HEY, Giiiil!" The exclamation was accompanied by a tan brunet striding towards them with a huge grin plastered on his face. He was followed closely by a posh boy with lustrous, shoulder-length blond hair that curled perfectly around his fashionably stubbly face.

The blond one smirked. "Gilbert, you're late!" he complained playfully before his sparkling blue eyes flitted over to Ludwig, making him feel immediately uncomfortable. He got the sense that this boy was, well, undressing him with his eyes.

"Toni! Francis! Sorry guys, I had to practically drag my little bro here from his freshman dorm. He got his stubbornness from me." Gilbert grinned, slinging one arm over Ludwig's shoulders.

Ludwig could feel his face heating up. So these were his brother's infamous drinking friends. He had never met them before, but he'd heard enough to get an unsavory impression.

"Ah, so this is little Ludwig, then? Enchanté," Francis murmured, voice tinged with a slight French accent. He was an international student, as was Antonio, who came from Spain.

"Oh Luddy! It's so great to meet you! We've heard so much!" Antonio crooned, still beaming widely.

"Uh… you have?"

"Okay guys," Gilbert butted in, "I'm parched, so we'll be back in a bit." And with that he pulled Ludwig over to counter.

Ludwig frowned as Gilbert started picking up each of the bottles in turn and looking at their labels.

"What did he mean they know so much?" Ludwig asked, eyeing his new acquaintances as they giggled in the corner over some private joke.

"What do you want to drink, Lud? I'll make it for ya," Gilbert said without looking at him.

"Gilbert, answer me!" Ludwig complained crossly.

Gilbert sighed. "Honestly Lud, it's nothing! I dunno, they just get carried away sometimes, blow things out of proportion."

"What are you talking about?"

"Will you let me make you a drink?" he asked, slightly annoyed.

Ludwig glared. "If you'll answer my question."

Gilbert deliberated for a moment. "Fine. What do you want?"

Ludwig shrugged. "Vodka?"

Gilbert grimaced. "Nah, you'll get shitfaced way too soon on that stuff."

"Okay then, you choose."

"How 'bout… rum and coke, then. Think I'll join you with that. Move to beer later."

He poured the drinks. As Ludwig took his, he pressed his brother again, "So? What was that about?"

Gilbert took a rather large gulp before speaking. "Don't let it get to you or anything. It's just, they can… Well, they like to make people feel uncomfortable sometimes, if you know what I mean, but it's just for fun… I might have mentioned something to them about you being kinda innocent, or somethin' like that, and they made more out of it than it was…" he trailed off.

Ludwig blushed. "Oh…"

He looked back down into his drink. Innocent. He supposed, by his brother's standards, that's what he was. Innocent, serious, no-fun little Ludwig. Why would Gilbert even bother dragging him to a party? Probably just his sense of duty: help anti-social, awkward little Lud make a few friends. That's probably what Antonio and Francis were laughing about now—how un-cool he was, how unlike Gilbert he was. He was just social baggage for his brother. And here was Gilbert, trying to be so gracious about it, but probably hoping he would start drinking quickly and loosen up.

Ludwig took a long gulp and shuddered at the taste. There was too much coke in it for it to really burn, but he wasn't too fond of the rum taste itself.

"Geez Lud, I really watered that one down, can't you take it?" Gilbert teased.

Ludwig blushed. "Of course I can!" He took another swig, slightly smaller this time, and forced himself not to grimace.

"Oh Gilbert, there you are!"

They turned to the voice and saw Elizaveta picking her way around a few people cleaning up a spill.

"Hey Liz!" Gilbert hugged her casually with one arm.

Ludwig smiled politely, and was surprised when she caught him in a quick embrace as well.

"Ludwig! Glad you made it!"

"Thank Gilbert, he didn't really leave me any options…"

"Oh admit it bro, you need to get out more. This is just as much a part of your education as stuffy old Kirkland's class."

"Oh! Ludwig, speaking of Kirkland, how about that book club? That Mathias kid thinks he's got it all figured out, huh?"

Ludwig laughed a little. He was supposed to laugh at things like that, right? That was supposed to be funny. Sound like you know what you're doing. Show Gilbert you don't have to be awkward.

"Right, he's a little much, isn't he?" he ventured.

Elizaveta laughed back. "Gil, you really should have come, things got pretty out of hand."

"Yeah, Roddy mentioned—"

"Oh, did he tell you about Lud's shining moment? He brought us all back in line real quick!" She was laughing again, and Ludwig followed suit nervously. "It's a good thing you were there Lud… Oh man, I can't wait for next week! You should come, Gil!"

"Liz, you know I've got stuff to do, especially with Pride Day coming up…"

"Oh that's right! Ludwig, you'll be there, won't you? I think some of your roommates have joined the club, right?"

 _Here we go again,_ he sighed inwardly.

"Yes, they've told me all about it, I'll be there."

"Oh good! I'm sure you've seen the Facebook event page, we're posting the theme tomorrow, but I can give you a little heads up! Or have you told him already, Gilbert?"

"Ah, no, I haven't—"

"Oh! Well, it's going to be an underwear party! We did one last year and it was a huge success so we thought we'd start out with that this year! Hope you got some cute boxers or something!" She winked cheekily.

"Uh…" Ludwig was blushing profusely now.

"Eh, don't worry Liz, I'll lend him some of mine!" Gilbert grinned at Elizaveta, and Ludwig felt his blush deepen even further.

"Oo, how about the ones with the little chicks then? Unless you'll be wearing them? Oh wait, no, tell me you'll wear the thong!"

"We'll see…" Gilbert grinned mischievously.

"You'd better. It wasn't cheap, you know. Oh, there's someone I need to go say hi to, excuse me a moment—" and with that Elizaveta was weaving her way towards one of the couches.

Ludwig stood frozen.

"…Gilbert?"

"Yeah?"

"Did she say… thong?"

"Oh, ah, that…" Gilbert scratched his back for a moment. "I mean, it's not really a thong, just… some sparkly underwear Liz bought me as a joke present freshman year. I mean, it's not like I wear them often…"

"…Oh." The image of his brother in sparkly underwear was one he could have happily lived without ever conjuring up. But freshman year? It struck Ludwig how little he really knew of Gilbert's life since his brother had gone to college. "So, ah, I take it I have to wear underwear, and just underwear, to this party?"

"Well, it's an underwear party, so… yeah. But I mean, it's totally chill, you don't need to stress about it or anything, and I mean, it's not like you need to hide anything anyway, bro."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, just that, you're probably more buff than most of the guys that'll be there, so… hey, why not flaunt it, right?" He tried to grin a little.

Ludwig positively looked like a beet at this point. He couldn't even formulate an answer to that, but luckily he was saved from doing so by the arrival of Roderich.

"Ah, hello you two, have you seen Elizaveta?"

"Hey Rod, yeah, she's over there." Gilbert pointed. Suddenly something seemed to catch Gilbert's attention, because he added, "Uh, I'll be right back, need to go talk to someone…"

"Alright," Roderich said lightly, and Gilbert moved away.

Ludwig tensed nervously. How would he make conversation without Gilbert? He didn't know these people! But he didn't want to be a burden, he didn't want to be a burden…

"So, what is there to drink?" Roderich said half to himself as he turned towards the bar. "What are you having, Ludwig?" Ludwig got the feeling he was questioning out of desire to make conversation more than actual curiousity, but that didn't bother him too much at the moment.

"Oh, ah, rum and coke." He remembered he was supposed to be drinking and took another long, cringe-inducing gulp.

Roderich made a similar face to Ludwig's own. "Yes, I know. Alfred and Yao always get the cheapest liquor. I don't know why Toris doesn't knock some sense into them. You can never find anything decent to drink at these parties, can you?" There was a slight twinkle in his eye that seemed to indicate good intentions, and Ludwig felt a little tension leave his body. "Here, let me make you something else."

Roderich set about concocting something from the meager ingredients laid out on the bar. When he was finished, Ludwig took a tentative sip.

His eyes widened in surprise at the sweet fruitiness. "It's delicious! What is it?"

Roderich smiled slightly. "Family secret."

He began to ask Ludwig questions about school, things that were easy to answer, and as the contents of Ludwig's cup were slowly drained, he felt himself becoming more at ease. To his surprise, he felt like he could talk to Roderich; he seemed like a sensible person (except for the prim manners), and there was no pretense of fashionable apathy to uphold. Though Ludwig wasn't quite sure he met Roderich's standards of sophistication, he didn't feel the need to prove his social savoir-faire with him in the same way as with so many others.

Just as Ludwig was starting another drink and the conversation was turning towards genuine points of mutual interest (favorite authors and composers, though they couldn't agree on Mozart or Beethoven's nationality), Francis and Antonio came stumbling back into them.

"So Ludwig, you must tell us what you think of college life!" Francis pressed playfully, slinging an arm over Ludwig's shoulder.

"Yes, yes, have you been to any crazy freshman parties? Haha, I think orientation week is still among our best days!" Antonio grinned again.

"Ahem, excuse me, I really ought to find my girlfriend." Roderich apologized to Ludwig with his eyes before slipping away.

Suddenly, Ludwig felt quite cornered by the two boys leaning so close. "Um, I… well, not many… but, ah, I'm liking it so far, I guess…" He probably sounded so stupid. But these were Gilbert's friends; if he could get them to like him, maybe Gilbert would see he didn't always have to be such a killjoy. He couldn't really blame his brother for ditching him earlier.

The alcohol that had begun to make everything go a little fuzzy also lent him confidence, so he added, "At least, it's way better than being at home with my dad always sticking his nose in my business." That sounded pretty good, right? Show he was a little rebellious, not a daddy's boy like Gilbert probably made him out to be.

"Ah, yes, Gil always says your dad is quite a hard-nose, doesn't he Toni?"

"Yes, I can't imagine! It must be nice to do whatever you want now, hm?" Antonio wound his arm around Ludwig's waist under Francis' own arm, but Ludwig wasn't quite drunk enough to feel comfortable with that. He shifted away a bit awkwardly but was prevented from going any further by Francis' other hand on his shoulder.

"Like drinking, right? Gil says he was quite strict about that—why don't you do a few shots with us to celebrate, no?"

"Uh…" Shots? Ludwig wasn't sure he could handle that… but shots were manly! Shots were cool! "Sounds great!" he blurted out.

Francis grinned. "Good. What'll it be, Antonio?"

"Tequila!"

"Three shots tequila, coming right up. I'm afraid we don't have the salt and lime, but we'll have to make do."

Francis poured the shots into three solo cups and distributed them. Ludwig looked down at the clear liquid, wondering what one would do with salt and lime if they were available, and thinking that a shot was somewhat larger than he'd always thought it would be.

"To freedom!" Francis declared, hoisting his cup.

"And getting plastered!" Antonio chimed in, copying Francis' gesture.

Ludwig merely tried to smile as he followed suit, then squeezed his eyes shut and emptied the shot into his mouth. He let it sit there a moment, cheeks bulging out as a missed drop trickled down his chin, before gathering the courage to swallow it all in one gulp. The burn was terrible and he had to fight the urge not to cough.

"Bravo!" exclaimed the Spaniard.

"Another!" insisted the Frenchman, and before Ludwig could complain he was sloshing more tequila into his cup.

They raised the shots again, and Ludwig felt he couldn't refuse. This time he took it in two quick gulps instead, though, which made it marginally more bearable.

"Ahhh," Francis sighed in satisfaction. "So, tell me, Ludwig, have you had many chances to exercise your newfound freedom, hm?"

The shots hadn't kicked in yet, but Ludwig could feel himself starting to slip into the underwater state from his earlier drinks alone. Francis' face seemed rather close, and yet Ludwig felt like he couldn't quite focus on all of it. He had to strain his eyes to really see him well.

"Like what?" he asked stupidly. It seemed like the obvious question to ask at the moment though.

"Hey Lud!" His brother's voice penetrated his consciousness, much to his relief.

Antonio and Francis leaned back against the counter, smirking, as Gilbert joined their circle, pulling another long-haired blond boy with him.

"Have you met Matt?" Gilbert asked, grinning.

"No," Ludwig said, at the same time as "Yes" came from the newcomer. Ludwig blinked and looked at the boy Matt more closely. "Oh, sorry, have we met?"

"I'm your RA," Matt said simply, pushing up the glasses perched on his nose.

Gilbert stared at his brother. "Ludwig, you forgot your own RA? Jesus Christ, do you really spend that much time cooped up in your room?"

"Uh… I… oh, right, of course! Matt! Right, sorry, I… blanked, for a moment…" Honestly he was still drawing a blank, but best not to make more of a fool of himself.

Gilbert rolled his eyes before turning back to Matt. "Well I didn't know my little brother was one of your residents! Guess he hasn't been causing too much trouble, though, or he'd know what you look like."

Matt smiled a little before saying quietly, "No, he's fine. Some of the others do get a little rambunctious, though."

Ludwig decided to add his two cents. "Yeah, they make a racket outside my room when I'm trying to study."

"That's when you go and join them, no?" offered Francis, before adding apologetically, "sorry, Mattie."

Matt laughed a little, though Ludwig thought he sounded slightly uneasy.

"Oh, Matty dear, that reminds me, there's someone I want you to meet!" Francis took hold of Matt's elbow and guided him away from Gilbert. "Be back in just a moment, Gilly," the blond added, just as Gilbert made to follow. He didn't stop Antonio from going along, however, and Gilbert watched them go with a frown.

"Fucking fucktard!" he exclaimed, spinning back towards an alarmed Ludwig. "That douchebag knows I—aw fuck." He flung his hands up in exasperation.

"Uh, Gilbert? You okay?"

"No. And I was fucking doing so well, too! Goddammit!"

"Gilbert, what—"

"Matt! And fucking Francis! He knows I've been trying to get with him," he huffed, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter dejectedly. "He always does this to me."

"Oh…" Realization dawned on Ludwig. It was strange. He knew now that his brother was into guys, but to see it playing out in front of him made it suddenly much more real. If Gilbert had his way, he'd be taking Matt home instead of walking Ludwig back to his dorm, or maybe he'd start making out with him on that couch over there, or maybe they'd borrow drunk Alfred's room and— Ludwig stopped himself before he could think it.

"Here."

Ludwig looked up to find Gilbert holding out a beer for him. "Oh, thanks." He was already buzzed, but he still felt thankful for the cold, golden liquid. "Uh, how do I…" He gestured towards the cap. He didn't trust his own tingling fingers.

"Here," Gilbert said again, taking the bottle back and neatly popping the cap on the edge of the counter. He handed it back to Ludwig and repeated the action with his own bottle. "What do you say we grab a seat?"

"Okay," Ludwig shrugged.

They found an empty end of a couch and managed to squeeze in next to each other. Ludwig was grateful for the support of the couch back and Gilbert's shoulder. Gilbert took a sip as he glanced over at his brother.

"Um, you know, Lud, I feel like we haven't really talked much since I… told you." Gilbert dropped his eyes at the end.

Ludwig's face reddened. "Told me what?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Oh c'mon, that I'm bi."

Ludwig gulped, though there was no beer in his mouth. "Oh. That."

"I mean… Are you… I feel like… Well, are you uncomfortable with it, or something?"

"Wh—no! No, no, I just…" Just what? He needed to assure Gilbert it was okay, everything was okay. "I've just been… thinking a lot. Y'know, reconsidering stuff, I guess." The words were falling from his mouth now, before he could really process them.

Gilbert quirked a silvery eyebrow. "Yeah? Like what?"

"Like, stuff, I dunno. Other stuff's been on my mind." He waved his beer bottle vaguely and hoped Gilbert didn't notice when some sloshed out. Surely he wasn't that drunk. He took a quick gulp to bring the liquid down to a more manageable level though, just to be safe.

A smirk twitched at the corners of his brother's mouth. "Does this happen to do with luuuv troubles by any chance?"

"Ah, um, I mean sorta, maybe, I just… lots of stuff's been happening, you know… it's nothing though, really. I guess—I just—yeah, yeah, you know, like when, there's just lots of stuff on your mind, and you get sort of confused but you're just like, this is stupid, I shouldn't be confused about this, and you know you're being stupid about it but you can't help but think, and—and… oh wait…" What was he trying to say?

"Kesese, oh my God Luddy you're so drunk!" Gilbert was cracking up next to him. "This is so great! I should be taking a video of this…"

"I'm… I'm not…"

"Here, let me, ah, hold on to that for you." Gilbert gingerly removed the bottle from Ludwig's grasp. "So… we're okay though, right?"

"Yeah! Yeah, absolutely, we're great, we're really great." Ludwig leaned into his brother in a sloppy attempt at a hug.

"Oh, uh, okay, kesese!" Gilbert squeezed back a little awkwardly with his two beer bottles in hand.

"Hey Gil, who's your boyfriend?" said an unfamiliar, sweet female voice.

Ludwig looked up blearily and managed to make out the big chested blonde Alfred had been talking to earlier. Boyfriend? Who was she talking about?

"Oh! Ahh, no, this is my little brother…" Gilbert hastily tried to shove Ludwig upright, but he ended up happily slumped against his shoulder instead.

"Oh! Haha, sorry! You just looked so cute together!" the girl giggled.

"Oh, well, um, yeah, this is Ludwig… Ludwig, Kat."

Ludwig grinned up from Gilbert's shoulder. "Hiii." He had to try not to laugh. He knew he must look ridiculous, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care. It was so comfy just resting his head on Gilbert, and the blurring of sights and sounds was entertainment in itself.

Kat giggled again. "Hello Ludwig."

"Want a beer?" Gilbert held out Ludwig's old beer.

"Oh, thanks!"

"Why don't you sit?" He patted the spot next to him, which had been recently vacated.

Kat complied, letting herself slide close to Gilbert.

"You know," began Gilbert, "you shouldn't take open drinks, especially not from guys, but I give you my word I didn't roofie it."

"Haha, thanks for the honesty. Don't worry though, I wouldn't take one from just any guy."

"Oh, so I'm not just any guy now?"

Ludwig was only half aware of their conversation, but they seemed to be getting along well. At one point a person stopped to ask if he was okay, and he recognized the concerned face of Toris from the book club.

"Yeah, fine, thanks," he assured, trying to sound as sober as possible and vaguely wondering what Toris was doing there.

He didn't know how much later it was when he felt shifting on the couch next to him. He was finally able to straighten himself out and look up to see Kat standing. Her eyes were on him.

"Is your brother coming?" she asked Gilbert with a small smile.

"Uh—are you, okay with that?"

She giggled a little and shrugged. "It's okay with me."

"…Okay! Yeah, we'll meet you at the door! Be right there."

Kat smiled again before making for the door. Ludwig couldn't help but notice how her chest bounced with each springy step, even in his drunken state. Wait, Kat… hadn't Feliciano mentioned a Kat with giant boobs?

But he didn't have time to dwell on that. Gilbert was leaning in to him urgently.

"Lud, Lud, how you feelin' bro?"

"Fine! Fine, really."

A giant grin broke over Gilbert's face. He leaned in right next to Ludwig's head.

"Good. Because we're about to have some brotherly bonding time," he whispered, making Ludwig shiver at his hot, heavy breath on his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2: umm... do I really need to say?
> 
> Next chapter: shit WILL go down on Pride Day! That's a promise I'll keep.


	6. Chapter 5, Part 2

Ludwig stumbled up Gilbert’s porch steps after Kat and found himself staring at her nicely shaped ass as it swayed temptingly in front of him.

Gilbert unlocked the door and gestured graciously. “Ladies first,” he offered with a crooked smile. Kat batted her eyelashes at him sweetly as she stepped over the threshold.

Ludwig felt like it had taken an unnaturally short time to walk here. Which meant he hadn’t had time to sort out his thoughts. He had been quite preoccupied enough keeping pace with his brother, who had seemed to be in rather a hurry.

He put his hand on Gilbert’s shoulder before he could follow Kat. “Giiil, what’s going on?” he whined in a whisper.

The older brother gave him an “are you shitting me?” sort of a smile before whispering back, “Just come on inside bro, I’ll fill ya in.” And with that he ushered Ludwig through the door and towards the stairs where Kat stood, waiting.

“So, Liz and Rod are still at the party and probably won’t be back for a bit, and my other housemate is home for the weekend, so, we’ve got the place to ourselves for the moment. Um, there’s a comfy den upstairs, if you like…”

“Sounds great!” Kat beamed.

Gilbert led the way up to the den, which was furnished with a large plush couch and beanbag chair. He turned on a single orangey lamp that bathed the small room in a subtle glow, then fiddled with the ipod connected to some speakers on a table. Mellow electronic music filled the air.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said gesturing to Kat. He turned to Ludwig. “Hey bro, why don’t you come get the weed with me?”

“Okay. Wait, what?”

“Just… come with me.”

“Oh…”

Ludwig followed Gilbert next door to his room. Gilbert shut the door behind them and turned to his brother.

“Hey, Lud, you gonna be able to… y’know, perform?”

“Huh?”

“Can you get it up?”

“…Wh—… Wh-wh-why are you asking that?!”

“Ludwig, are you blind? Do you not see the smouldering hotness of the girl sitting on my couch, with whom we are alone right now? I dunno about you, but I am totally fucking her tonight. Bro, if I were you, I would not pass this one up. And I mean, she seems amenable to the idea of doing us both, so…”

“…G-Gilbert…”

“What?”

Ludwig could feel the heat rising in his face. “…I’m… a virgin…”

Gilbert stared. “…Oh. Oohh.” He snorted slightly. “How could I forget?”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Um, okay, so… hell of a way to lose it, right? And with your big brother no less!” He clapped a hand on Ludwig’s shoulder.

“Wait, what?”

“Um, that… sounded weird. Sorry. All I mean is, you know, like I said, brotherly bonding, right? We fuck a chick together, that’s like, as close as you can get!”

“B-but… I…” Ludwig looked at him helplessly.

Gilbert looked back, guilt and pity creeping into his chest. “Look… tell you what. Let’s make it a spitroast, you take heads, I’ll take tails. Then you can still leave with you V card kinda-sorta intact.”

“Y-you mean…” He made an awkward gesture with his hand.

“Uh-huh. Whaddya say, bro? C’mon, you’d be crazy to turn down head from Kat!”

“Wait, then why don’t you want to do her alone?”

Gilbert shot him an “are you crazy?” look. “I’m lookin’ out for you, man. I mean, I thought it would be fun… But hell, if you’re sure you don’t want to…”

“N-no, it’s not that… I’ll do it.” Ludwig blushed as he spoke the words. But Gilbert was right, he’d be crazy to turn down the chance to finally live out one of his many sexual fantasies. Especially with a girl like Kat. And as embarrassing as it was that his older brother would be present for his first ever blowjob, maybe it was for the best. This way, Gilbert could guide the whole complicated three-some procedure and Ludwig could just go along. Being as inexperienced as he was, he’d probably bungle anything he tried to do alone at this point. Gilbert would no doubt find something to tease him about afterwards anyway, but still, it was nice to think he had a sort of safety net for his first time…

Gilbert squeezed his shoulder with a grin. “That’s my bro.”

He turned and starting rummaging around in a dresser drawer. “Here we go!” He pulled out a large zip-lock bag containing what appeared to be a few herbs.

“Gilbert, is that—?!”

“Weed! The best shit in town, too. Got it from my friend Tim who gets it straight from Amsterdam. Lucky Dutch bastard. Looks like there’s just enough left.” He pulled out a thin piece of paper and began meticulously rolling a joint.

“But—that’s so illegal! He brings it into the country from Europe?!”

“Take a chill pill, bro! I don’t know what all he does and I don’t ask, I just pay a fair price and get the best quality stuff you’re gonna find in a five-state radius. Of course, he keeps ‘la crème de la crème’ for himself, but hey, I’m not complaining.”

Gilbert licked the paper to seal it and held up the completed joint with a triumphant smile. “Let’s get this show on the road. Oh but, uh, maybe you shouldn’t smoke any Lud… Wouldn’t wanna risk you crossfading too hard to fuck properly, now would we?”

Ludwig gulped to moisten his dry throat. “Uh, right.” In all honesty he was perfectly happy to limit the number of new experiences he was having tonight.

“Let’s do this then!” With a gleeful glint in his eye Gilbert led the way back into the den.

Kat had settled onto the couch. “Oh, there you are, thought you’d forgotten about me,” she teased lightly.

Gilbert smoothly took a seat next to her and managed to get an arm around her shoulders all in one fluid motion. “What? Never. I think that would be impossible.” He pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit the joint, leaning in close to Kat so he could keep his arm around her while using both hands. He inhaled deeply, letting his eyes fall closed with content, then passed the joint to Kat before allowing himself to slowly exhale, first through his nostrils, then through his mouth, smoke twisting and swirling in lazy patterns around his head. For one strange moment Ludwig had the impression that his brother was some magnificent white and silver dragon.

Ludwig tried to seem relaxed as he sat down on Kat’s other side, though he thought he landed on the couch rather hard. Kat didn’t seem to notice, though, as she happily took two long drags. She offered it to Ludwig, who gave an awkward smile and shook his head. She shrugged and took another drag before passing it back to Gilbert.

“You’ve really got the good stuff, huh?” she giggled.

Gilbert smiled around the joint between his lips. “Only the best,” he murmured out of the side of his mouth.

Ludwig watched in fascination as Gilbert took another drag. He seemed to savor it so much, his head tilted back to expose his creamy throat and the subtle movement of his Adam’s apple. Then the tiniest parting and slight puckering of his pink lips, and a sigh of smoke, before his burgundy wine eyes fluttered open, gazing at some distant object visible to him alone.

Through the haze of sweet smoke and warm glow of dim lights, Ludwig saw Gilbert as he had never seen Gilbert before. This was not Gilbert as a brother, this was Gilbert as himself, as he was when Ludwig was not with him. This was Gilbert floating on pleasure and driven by animal instinct to trail pale, slender fingers up Kat’s bare thigh, daring to slip under her skirt to massage the pliable flesh there and not caring that his little brother was looking on. Gilbert, eyes glazed with drug and lust, breathing heavily near Kat’s neck. Ludwig knew most siblings never saw each other in such a state, and it was strange. Gilbert had never seemed so other, so unknowable, so whole.

But when Gilbert’s lethargic gaze fell on Ludwig, the spell broke. It was his brother looking at him again, even if he was under the influence. He was raising his eyebrows as if to communicate something. He glanced significantly at Kat, who was enjoying a drag, and then at the arm he had draped over her shoulders. After a few more unintelligible head jerks, Ludwig realized he wanted him to put his arm around her too.

After a moment’s hesitation, he tentatively raised his arm. Gilbert rolled his eyes at his timidity, and Ludwig gingerly settled his arm over his brother’s, letting his hand curl over Kat’s exposed shoulder.

“Oh, hello, decided to join the party, huh?” Kat flashed him a smile and allowed herself to settle into his side.

Ludwig’s nerve-endings were on fire. He had never held a woman like this. He could smell her floral perfume and oh God, he had a clear view down her bursting button-up top. Her breasts swelled in perfect curves up out of the cups of a satiny bra, squeezing together to create deliciously defined cleavage. How he wanted to simply reach out and hold them, feel their softness filling his palms, knead into them with his fingers…

Gilbert leaned his head close to Kat’s. “Wanna undo a button?” he breathed in her ear.

She smirked at him hazily and reached up to undo the top, straining button of her shirt, which was already quite low. Ludwig had to suppress a groan at what was revealed.

Gilbert abandoned her thigh for a moment in favor of fondling a pale, balloon-sized breast. Ludwig gratefully took that as a cue that it was okay for him to do the same. His hand trembled as he ran fingers hesitantly over the smooth fabric of the bra cup, then extended them, splayed out, to graze the warm, sumptuous flesh. His hand seemed to mold perfectly to the shape, and he moved it down to cup her breast, squeezing slowly. Kat gave a low hum of contentment.

Gilbert finished the joint and starting rubbing her thigh again with slightly more intensity, bending his head down to kiss it as well. Kat turned her face to Ludwig’s and suddenly her lips were on his, hand tangling in his hair.

Ludwig groaned softly. He’d forgotten how soft this thing called kissing was, how wet. How much like abandoning oneself to drown in hot depths. The hand he had kept on her shoulder moved to encircle her, now that Gilbert was elsewhere occupied, and he grasped her other breast, kneading into both of them, rolling them against each other, with all the fervor he had ever dreamed of while pleasuring himself, as Kat’s tongue writhed slickly against his own.

Suddenly Kat broke the kiss to give a deep moan. Ludwig glanced down to see that his brother had pulled her skirt up and his fingers had found their way inside her underwear. Wanting to keep up, he reached inside her bra cups and pushed them down so her breasts could spring free of their confines.

In awe, he rubbed his palms over the peaks, tingles surging through his groin at the feeling of her nipples hardening from his touch. He squeezed some more, fascinated by the way her flesh moved in his hands, by the perfect profile of her bust. His fingertips found the pert buds and started twiddling and pulling, making Kat pant and groan even more. Some instinct led him drop his head to her neck, licking and sucking the soft, warm skin there.

Kat shifted slightly as Gilbert knelt between her legs and worked to remove her panties, then brought her hips forward on the couch.

“Spread your legs,” he breathed, and she complied.

Ludwig watched, rapt, as Gilbert buried his mouth in that sweet secret place between her legs, eyes closed, lips temporarily disappearing below a carefully trimmed triangle of hairs. He tilted his head and Ludwig could see his tongue flicking and wriggling nimbly over her glistening folds as he used two fingers to spread her open. It was surreal.

It was like being dropped into one of the thousands of videos he had watched, only that was his brother performing oral sex, these were his hands caressing a pair of giant boobs. It was so immediate, smell and feel as well as sight and sound, but it couldn’t be real. Did this sort of thing happen off the computer screen?

“You taste so good,” Gilbert murmured, enthusiastically dipping his tongue into Kat’s leaking entrance.

“Mm, your tongue is amazing,” she whispered back, head falling against the couch.

Ludwig felt his cock go rigid. He _needed_ … Oh God he needed _something_. With renewed fervor his mouth moved down to her breast, sucking the skin into his mouth hungrily, working his way towards the stiff nipple that felt so exquisite between his lips, lightly rolled between his teeth.

“Ooo, that’s nice…” Kat rubbed a hand up Ludwig’s back to his neck. He was surprised at the electric shocks that shot through him at the simple touch of her fingertips below his ear.

“Do you nip a little?” she breathed to him.

He glanced up, taken aback that she would ask for that. Did being bitten really feel that good?

“Uh, sure.” He returned to the nipple and took it lightly between his teeth, and was amazed at the groan that emitted from her throat when he squeezed gently but firmly.

“Yes, like that…” she purred.

Her moans were a constant accompaniment to the background music now. Gilbert had begun to use his fingers, sliding two deep into her passage and curling them in to rub against a magical spot that made Kat cry out in high-pitched whimpers as he sucked her clit into his mouth and tortured it with his tongue and teeth.

“Oh— Oh, oh God YES…” She was practically sobbing now.

Ludwig did his best to please her top half, but he wanted more. Her breasts were amazing, of course, but he wasn’t the one making Kat’s mouth fall open and eyes screw shut, he knew.

“Hey, Lud.” Gilbert pulled his mouth away for a moment, pressing and stroking her button with a finger instead. “Why don’t you get down here and help me?” He smirked.

Ludwig nodded dumbly and joined his brother on the floor. Gilbert used his fingers in a v-shape to spread her swollen lips further, smirk still in place.

“There you go, bro.”

Ludwig stared for just a moment at the pornographic sight before him. He had never seen this in real life. Never smelled that smell that was driving him half-mad with want. And then, he was there, running his tongue through her slick juices, around and around her nub, flicking over, sucking in, relishing the smooth slipperiness of such silken skin and Kat’s musical sounds of ecstasy…

Gilbert watched his little brother go to work, wide-eyed, still holding Kat’s labia open for him.

“Fuck…” he whispered to himself, cock straining against his jeans. This boy was supposed to be a virgin? Jesus Christ, just how much porn did he watch? He blushed a little, wondering briefly if it was really okay to be watching his little brother eating out a girl and getting so fucking hard to it. He didn’t touch himself though, not yet.

He shrugged it off, too horny to really care anyway, and leaned in to join Ludwig. He tilted his head to the side so he could position himself below Ludwig’s furiously working jaw and wriggle his tongue as deep into Kat’s hot cavern as it would go, massaging her wonderfully soft walls furiously with the tip of his muscle.

“Mmm—nnngh—use your fingers,” Kat panted.

Gilbert replaced his tongue with his fingers once again, which knew exactly the right spot, and moved his mouth up to join Ludwig’s in lavishing attention on her clit.

Ludwig was a little startled when he felt Gilbert’s tongue sliding against his, as they both attempted to reach Kat’s most sensitive spots. The fog of alcohol made him not care though, oddly enough. As with everything else about this situation, Ludwig knew he would be mortified if sober; the fact that his brother was helping him perform cunnilingus on a girl he didn’t know, the fact that his and Gilbert’s saliva was mingling on her pussy and undoubtedly exchanging from mouth to mouth, the fact their heads and lips were so close together they were practically kissing. And at some point Ludwig had started rubbing himself desperately through his jeans. Luckily, though, Ludwig was far from sober.

As the brothers pushed and sucked Kat’s hardened nub back and forth between their mouths, Ludwig had the incredibly bizarre thought that they were like baby piglet brothers vying to suckle from the same teat. He almost laughed at his own absurdity. How could his thoughts be so oddly detached from his body? Was this what sex and alcohol did to the mind?

Kat was positively crying out now, legs and pelvis moving compulsively. “Oooohh, ah—fu—oh, w-wait! Ah! N-no, oh God I’m going t—”

Ludwig backed off, glancing uncertainly up at Kat, whose face was contorted with pleasure. Why would she ask them to wait? Gilbert, however, buried his face ever deeper and kept working with fervor.

“Oohhh, shit—AHH!”

The reason presented itself as suddenly a jet of clear liquid came spurting from her pussy. Ludwig jumped back a bit, but most of it hit Gilbert square in the face. The older boy didn’t back off though, instead closing his lips around as much of her soft flesh as possible and attempting to suck all the fluid up.

Kat’s body finally untensed and Gilbert pulled away.

“S-sorry!” she whined, worry stitched across her brow.

“Kesese, what are you apologizing for?”

“Mm, some guys don’t like it when I squirt…”

“Fuck that, they don’t know what they’re missing then! Why don’t I eat you out more often? Seriously, squirters are like goddesses. Plus your lady juices taste so sweet.” Smirking, Gilbert brought the two fingers that had been inside of her up to his mouth and began to lick them clean.

Ludwig watched, slack-jawed. How could his brother be so frank, so shameless about everything?

Gilbert caught sight of him staring and grinned. “Don’t you think so Lud?” He held his fingers out right in front of Ludwig’s mouth.

Ludwig stared at the hand for a moment, too close for comfort, then back at his brother’s expectant face. Was he honestly supposed to lick his fingers?

“Um…” Tentatively, he poked his tongue out and gave a single, quick lick up Gilbert’s warm, salty finger. He didn’t taste much from just that, but said, nevertheless, “Yeah, good.”

Gilbert snorted a little.

Kat giggled. “You seemed to like it a lot better when you were going down on me…” She bit her lip. “Um, why don’t you two… suck some of my juice off each other’s fingers?” She batted her eyelashes, her sweet tone completely belying the bold nature of her request.

The brothers just looked at her for a moment, Ludwig scandalized, Gilbert quizzical. Then Gilbert smile wryly.

“You’re really into brothers, aren’t you? Well, what guy doesn’t fantasize about sisters…”

He reached into her dripping folds to collect more of the substance, then offered his sticky fingers to Ludwig again. “Whaddya say Lud?”

Ludwig simply looked at his brother’s coated digits, apprehensive. That didn’t seem normal, that didn’t seem okay…

“Aw c’mon, it’s kinky…” Gilbert took one of Ludwig’s hands with his free one and guided it to Kat’s pussy. The younger half-heartedly slid his fingers around to get them wet before Gilbert pulled them to his mouth and began to lick. He grinned at Ludwig and laughed a little before inserting the fingers into his mouth and sucking harshly, glancing sideways at Kat suggestively.

Ludwig’s skin tingled as his brother’s tongue slid over his fore and middle fingers, wriggling between them and swirling around them in a thorough cleansing process. Ludwig tore his eyes away from the obscene sight—it was his _brother_ for God’s sake—and dared to lean in just a little closer to Gilbert’s still outstretched hand, breathing in the scent it carried. Ludwig was surprised to find it subtly sweet, almost like… roses?

His lips parted, and carefully, gingerly, stretched forward to meet the fingers. His curious tongue slid from between his teeth to take a taste.

Gilbert was right. It tasted… weirdly, implausibly… _nice_. Ludwig welcomed the warm fingers into his mouth and started sliding his tongue and lips along them, forgetting who they belonged to. Kat hummed exquisitely at the sight.

Ludwig was startled when the fingers in his mouth came to life, prodding at the inside of his cheek and pinching his tongue a little. Without pulling back, Ludwig glared at his brother, who was giggling as he continued to suckle Ludwig’s fingers.

It was too much for Ludwig. The sight and sensation of his brother sucking on his fingers so suggestively was tying his stomach in very uncomfortable knots. He backed away, pulling his hand from Gilbert’s mouth. His brother simply grinned as if highly amused.

“Wow,” Kat said dreamily. “Okay, that was hot.”

She and Gilbert giggled a little, and Gilbert stood up, offering her a hand. “What do you say we move this to the bedroom?” he proposed in a sultry murmur.

Kat smiled and took his hand. Ludwig followed them to Gilbert’s room, acutely aware of his erection pressing against his jeans. Gilbert gave him a cheeky wink over the shoulder as he switched on a lamp and guided Kat towards the bed.

Before Ludwig could think of what he should be doing, Gilbert and Kat were practically half-undressed. He hastened to remove his shirt and jeans, heart racing, but paused at his tenting boxers. A single glance at the two now fully nude bodies before him, however, and he felt more self-conscious to keep them on. He made quick work of the boxers, relieved to let his erection stand straight and feel the freeing circulation of air in usually concealed places.

Gilbert and Kat were kissing, hands greedily exploring each other’s bodies. They seemed to have forgotten all about Ludwig, who had never felt more ridiculous than he did standing so awkwardly close with his dick sticking out, until Gilbert reached out and grabbed his wrist without turning his attention away from Kat. He yanked his little brother flush with Kat’s body and guided his hand to her thigh, hip, pelvis, before pulling back to continue his own investigation.

Flushed with embarrassment and arousal, Ludwig copied his brother’s movements and began sucking at her neck and jaw, his hands rubbing along her torso and groping her supple buttocks. He was also aware of the fact that his erection was now pressing against Kat’s leg, but he was too horny at this point to care. Kat turned from practically eating Gilbert’s face off to kiss Ludwig, tongue immediately plunging into his mouth like a starved creature. Ludwig responded enthusiastically to the overpowering thrill and couldn’t help but rub his body against hers, indicating his need for more.

Right on cue, Gilbert gently pulled Kat away and up onto the bed, positioning himself behind her while jerking his head to Ludwig to get in place. Ludwig knelt in front of her, and Kat, understanding the position, got on all fours.

It was only then that Ludwig really had the chance to take in the sight before him. He had an unobstructed view of the smooth skin from her shoulders down to the curve of her perfect, sizeable ass, and the force of gravity pulling at her swelling tits made them seem all the more tantalizingly sumptuous.

Behind her, however, was Gilbert, and Ludwig would be lying to say that his fascinated gaze didn’t linger on his brother’s form a moment longer than it should have. He had seen Gilbert naked before, of course, but never… aroused, like this. And it was impressive, by any standards. Though Ludwig noted with slight pride that he beat his brother in terms of girth, he also inwardly conceded, in awe tinged with jealousy, that Gilbert must have a good inch or so on him for length, all of which he quickly and expertly covered with a condom he had produced from his bedside drawer.

Jesus Christ, Ludwig thought. The guy could be a porn star with a dick like that, and such well-toned abs and thighs—um, not that he would ever seriously compare his brother to a porn star. Sure, he had a good body, but that didn’t mean anything, it was just Gilbert, just his brother. And besides, Gilbert was much too unique for that—his exposed flesh was that milky, palest pink, his hair, falling forwards over his eyes, such a specific shade of silvery platinum, and his eyes, in this light, practically jet black, veiled by feathery white lashes… He wasn’t like a porn star, he was like some ethereal spirit. Usually Ludwig wouldn’t think so, since he was used to his brother’s appearance, but here in this dim light, in the heady atmosphere created by lust and alcohol, everything seemed to take on an otherworldly quality.

His musings were disrupted by a warm hand on his member. Ludwig looked down, surprised, as he’d almost forgotten why he was here, in this position. That was remedied quickly by the hot tingling in his gut that accompanied the slow pumps Kat was giving his cock. His eyes fluttered closed with a sigh as his hands found her shoulders for support.

“Can I put it in?” he heard Gilbert ask softly.

“Uh-huh.”

The next thing he heard was a gasp from Kat and a barely-audible groan from his brother. And then, suddenly, amazing wet heat engulfed the head of his cock.

“Ohh…” he breathed softly, fingers of one hand automatically finding their way up to Kat’s head to comb through her soft tresses.

The slick warmth began to move along his length, millimeter by tantalizing millimeter, setting every nerve ending in his sensitive erection afire. He could feel her tongue working against the underside of his shaft, pressing along the vein there.

This slow pressure was torture though—he needed friction, stimulation. Involuntarily, his hips jerked forward. He felt his tip hit the back of Kat’s throat, and she made a small gagging noise before he felt her teeth grazing his skin in reprehension.

He grunted. “S-sorry.”

She switched tactics, however, and began bobbing her head up and down along his length, tongue teasing as she went, swirling around his swollen glans and poking under his retracted foreskin, making him shiver with pleasure.

Ludwig dared to open his eyes, and saw his brother concentrating on his work, rolling his hips into Kat’s backside with fluid motions at an increasing tempo. Kat began to moan with each thrust, sending titillating vibrations all through Ludwig’s cock. Ludwig had just enough shame left to look away from his brother in favor of watching Kat’s ministrations to his own member.

He pulled back her hair so that he had a clear view of her face. She was sucking now, lips sealed perfectly around him, cheeks hollowed in. He groaned at the searing sensation that was so nearly unbearable, but that he needed so much more of.

Gilbert’s thrusts were getting stronger; Ludwig could hear the lewd slap of his hips connecting with buttocks, and it accentuated Kat’s bobbing motion along his shaft. He pressed gently on her head, encouraging her to go faster, harder. She sucked along every inch of his cock her mouth could reach, lavishing attention on the sensitive head.

“Ngh!” Ludwig grunted as her tongue pushed against his slit, sending a shockwave through his groin. She kept rubbing with her tongue, alternating between slit and the underside of the glans, each swipe of her tongue making Ludwig’s stomach roll with bliss. But he needed more, so much more, he needed to keep on going until there was nowhere left to go…

Realizing his eyes had squeezed shut again, he opened them to squint down at his cock disappearing and reappearing between Kat’s shining red lips as he guided her head up and down, increasing the pace in desperation. He felt as though his insides were being slowly wrenched up, up, up, attaining greater levels of ecstasy and consuming need with each movement of Kat’s skillful mouth.

Ludwig’s breath came out in open-mouthed pants to accompany Kat’s ever-growing moans and the rhythmic slapping of flesh and creaking of the bed. His unfocused eyes drifted, aware only of her tongue, her lips, the soft, slick insides of that cavern, now moving from base to tip, now suckling down the side, now teasing his taught balls, now focusing infuriatingly on the head.

Suddenly Ludwig became aware that his eyes had fallen on Gilbert, who was plowing into Kat’s hips with a slack-jawed frown, mumbling variations of “Shit, that’s so good… guh, you like it this deep inside? Ohhh yeah…”

Ludwig was slightly embarrassed to be seeing his brother’s sex face, and had the feeling he wasn’t really supposed to be looking, but he was hardly in a state to truly care. In fact, it was rather fascinating to see the pale lithe body before him at work, muscles rippling subtly beneath the surface of his skin as he drove in-out, in-out, perpetually moving, straining towards his goal. He looked so lost yet so determined, dark eyes so hazy yet desperate.

Gilbert’s orbs caught the light and flashed red for an instant as they flicked up to meet Ludwig’s, and Ludwig felt a heat that had nothing to do with what was happening to his cock spread across his cheeks. He could have sworn he heard the faintest “kesese” as Gilbert shot him a sloppy grin, which he attempted to return before he had to look away. But then Gibert’s hands appeared, reaching out to him. He looked back in confusion.

“Hey L-Lud,” Gilbert panted, “let’s—nngh—let’s do it Sydney Harbour—unff-B-Bridge style, huh?” He smirked at him from behind the hair falling forward over his face, a few strands plastered to his forehead with sweat as his whole body continued to rock forward, back.

Ludwig didn’t know what that meant, but it looked to him as though Gilbert wanted him to take his hands. His mind wasn’t working straight enough for him to question it as pleasure continued to course through his organ, so his hands shot out to grip his brother’s in the air over Kat’s back. Gilbert brought their arm up at forty-five degree angles and laced their fingers together, continuing to fuck Kat with the same intensity. He gave him another lazy grin before his eyes closed and brows furrowed again, head falling forward slightly as lewd encouragement fell from his lips. “Ohh, fuck, yeah, just like that, oooh…”

Ludwig had no more control over anything. He clung to his brother’s sweaty fingers as if for dear life, lips peeling back as short, needy moans escaped from his throat. He would rather his brother didn’t hear him make such shameless noises, but he couldn’t help himself. Not thinking enough to control his gaze anymore, his eyes stayed on Gilbert, taking in each silent “ooohh,” each bite of his lip, each furrowing and knitting of his brow, each a reflection of the sensations he himself was feeling. Oh God, he was so close now, he could feel it, his gut tightening, his cock practically burning with pleasure as Kat stimulated the head nearly to the point of torture.

Nothing was distinguishable anymore. Gilbert’s expressions and his own, Gilbert’s thrusts and Kat’s bobbing along his twitching shaft, three gasping, groaning throats, the movements of bodies and the bed and the shameless sounds they made, the wetness of saliva and dripping sweat; it all seemed to melt together as Ludwig’s every sense was bombarded, until finally, _finally_ he felt himself on the very edge—

“Oh, I-I’m going to—” And then the tiniest bit of extra pressure from Kat’s tongue sent him over. “AH F—Oohh…” His seed spurted into her mouth as blissful relief washed over him, cock throbbing to push out every last drop of cum until he was fully satisfied.

As the fuzziness in his head cleared, he realized with embarrassment that his eyes were still on Gilbert, and he was looking back. His brother’s eyebrows raised in what might have been amusement for just a moment before his head fell back with a strained expression as he continued to buck. Gilbert disentangled his hands from Ludwig’s to grip Kat’s hips so he could increase his speed even further.

Ludwig backed away quickly and his cock slipped from Kat’s mouth, now limp. He glanced down at her and saw a few strings of white dribbling down her chin, but she must have swallowed the rest. She looked just as lost as Gilbert by this point, eyes distant, gasping and crying out in time with his thrusts.

“Ahh, harder! Harder!” Kat whimpered.

Gilbert adjusted their position so that Kat was lying on her side and he was straddling one leg, while the other rested on his shoulder, and continued to fuck her sideways faster than ever, grunting with the effort, perspiration dripping down his face.

Ludwig watched in fascination, but he felt like he should do something, rather than sitting there waiting for them to finish. After a moment’s hesitation, he leaned down to claim her mouth, deciding he didn’t care if he tasted himself after everything else he had already done. She moaned into him, her kiss much sloppier than before. His hands found her breasts once more as they bounced to the violent rhythm of their lust.

Gilbert’s frenzied tempo continued a few moments more before Kat arched back.

“AHH!” Her face contorted with her mouth open wide, then slowly relaxed in contentment.

Gilbert’s hips jerked wildly, losing their steady beat. “Oo baby, oh fuck yes, yes, aaannghh—” He groaned as he came, pressing himself as deep inside her as possible as his whole body tensed.

With a tremendous sigh of satisfaction, he withdrew and collapsed on the bed beside her. Ludwig was happy to lie down as well, his head near the others’.

Gilbert had to shuffle off the bed to dispose of his condom in the bathroom but soon returned to his position. A few moments of nothing but panting and lazy hands roaming over each other’s bodies passed.

“Mmm… I should go…” Kat said half to herself at last.

“Sure you don’t wanna stay?” Gilbert questioned, voice slightly scratchier than usual.

Kat sighed. “Can’t, I have to actually get up tomorrow… but I appreciate the offer,” she said with a smile, her former sweet demeanor returning. She crawled over Gilbert to slide off the bed and start gathering up her clothes.

She was dressed quickly, and Gilbert and Ludwig retrieved their boxers.

“Need us to walk you home?” Gilbert offered.

“Oh, no, it’s not far at all, thank you.” She smiled again.

“To the door at least?”

She laughed. “No really, I’m fine.”

She surprised Ludwig by giving him a full kiss goodbye on the lips. “It was a pleasure to meet you,” she said so sweetly one might think there was nothing less-than-innocent beneath her words.

“Ah—you too!” Ludwig fumbled, but tried to return the smile.

She kissed Gilbert just a moment longer, and the way he wrapped his arms around her and didn’t let go immediately made Ludwig feel like he was intruding on an intimate moment between lovers.

Kat giggled, her face close to Gilbert’s. “Thanks, I had a good time.”

“So did I,” he replied with a provocative grin before finally letting go.

She stepped into the hall. “Goodnight you two.” She waved slightly over her shoulder to the brothers standing in the door frame.

Gilbert waited until he heard the front door open and close before turning to his brother, who was going through some shock as the night’s sequence of events sunk in.

“WOO! Who’s awesome? I’m awesome! We’re awesome!” Gilbert shouted ecstatically, and raised his hand for a high five.

Ludwig stared ahead.

“Yo, BRO. Earth to Ludwig?” Gilbert grabbed his wrist and lifted it into position. Ludwig held it there limply, not at all prepared for the resounding slap Gilbert planted in his palm.

“Ow.” Ludwig shook his hand, snapping partially out of his trance.

“Kesesese! But seriously dude, how awesome WAS that? That was SOOO AWESOME!” Gilbert leapt into the air, then ran to the window and flung it open. “THAT WAS SOOOO AWESOOOOME!!!!!” he yelled for the world to hear.

That really woke Ludwig up. “Gilbert! She can probably hear you, not to mention the entire neighborhood!” He yanked his brother back from the window.

Gilbert spun around giggling and fell against Ludwig’s chest. “Kesese, I’m still a little high… Fuck, where are those chips?” He went to his desk and rummaged around in the drawers before pulling out a bag of sun chips.

“Munchie emergency stash!” He leaned back out the window and stuffed his hand in the bag.

“Don’t you think you ought to wash your hands first?” Ludwig asked skeptically, even as Gilbert popped several chips into his mouth at once.

“Mm, it’s all been i’ ma mouff an’way.”

Ludwig grimaced, mostly because he knew it was true.

Gilbert swallowed hastily. “OhmiGod, speaking of things being in your mouth—can you believe we did that?! That was sooo crazy! That crazy bitch got us to suck each other’s fingers!! Kesese, we’re INSANE!”

“Umm, yeah…” Ludwig shifted uncomfortably. He had forgotten that slight detail.

Gilbert turned back into the room, crunching on another mouthful. “Oh, b’theway, Lud, y’should know—” he gulped—“never call a girl a slut or a whore unless, y’know, she really is. Learned that the hard way dating Liz. She’d probably punch me if she heard me say ‘crazy bitch’ too, but… whatever. It’s still the best descriptor for Liz, and now I’m thinkin’ it applies to Kat too—but I mean, kinda in a good way, like—who the fuck knew?! She fucks like a porn star! And has a kink for brothers! She is one fuckin’ crazy bitch, but awesome!”

Gilbert took one more handful of chips and offered some to Ludwig, who refused. Gilbert stuffed them back in the drawer, then flopped down on his bed.

Ludwig stood in the middle of the room. “Umm… I guess I’ll go home now…” He turned to find his jeans.

Gilbert shot up. “What?! You’ll do no such thing! What about after sex cuddles?!”

Ludwig gave him a scandalized look. “But Gilbert, that’s for—”

“Oh c’mon Lud, just ’cause the girl left doesn’t mean we can’t! We’re two-thirds of a threesome! You can’t NOT take the opportunity for after sex cuddles. They’re a mandatory part of every proper coital encounter. You can just stay the night here, and it’s kinda far to your dorm anyway.” He pouted his lip out slightly.

“I—wait, are you worried about me walking back to my dorm?”

“What? No—uh, I mean, it’s just, there’s no need, and… Oh, for christsakes, Lud, we just _fucked a girl_ together! You can’t just go! This is like, ultimate bro bonding time!”

“Oh…”

“C’mon, get the lamp and get in bed, will ya?”

He sighed. “Sure.” It wasn’t worth arguing when Gilbert was so determined.

“Good!” Gilbert wriggled under his covers, beaming.

Ludwig cut the lights and made his way cautiously over to the bed and slid in beside his brother. Suddenly he felt arms encircling him.

“Gilbert!”

“What? It’s called _cuddling_!” He hugged him tighter stubbornly.

Ludwig sighed again. There was a moment of silence.

“I really enjoyed that,” Gilbert said in quiet contentment.

“Yeah,” Ludwig responded dully. Sure Kat had made him feel great, but he was slightly embarrassed with his performance as compared to his brother’s. He must have seemed so clumsy and naïve next to Gilbert, who was so obviously experienced, and honestly had quite a bit more prowess than Ludwig would have ever expected… He blushed to think what the body holding him so close had been doing minutes before. And his own brother… Brother, that word again… Grinning at him, gripping his hands, licking his fingers…

Gilbert propped himself up on an elbow to look down at Ludwig. “You did… enjoy it, right?”

Though he couldn’t see his face, Ludwig could make out the note of concern in his brother’s voice. “O-of course! Yes!” He blushed some more. Was that too enthusiastic?

“Oh, heh, okay, good. You sounded kinda, I dunno, put out… you sure everything’s okay?”

“Yes, of course, I—I just…”

“Just what?”

Ludwig didn’t answer.

“Lud, what? I didn’t—I mean, you—you were, okay, with everything, right? Lud, if you feel like I pressured you—”

“No, no!” Ludwig hurried to interrupt his brother’s rising panic. “It’s not that! I just—” He took a deep breath. “I just felt, kind of, um, I guess, well… unimpressive? Next to… well, you…”

There was a silence in which Ludwig wished he could disappear. And then—“KESESESE THAT’S IT? WOOhoohoo, oh my God, Lud, you had me worried… Kesese, though I must admit, I am quite impressive, aren’t I?” Gilbert fell back onto the pillow next to his furiously blushing brother. Ludwig was thankful it was dark at least.

“Shut up,” he mumbled.

“Aw, no, Lud, listen—you did great! Really! I mean that in a totally sincere, non-weird way. Kat really liked you! Else she wouldn’ta gone with it, believe me.”

“Hmph. Thanks, I guess.” But secretly, Ludwig was slightly comforted by his brother’s words.

“Kesese, oh man…” Gilbert sighed happily, snuggling back up into the other. “We should do that again some time… Sydney Harbour Bridge rocks, man, but it’s hard to find a guy you’re comfortable doing it with… Oh and Lud, always use a condom, even if the chick’s on birth control, unless you’re monogamous. You have no clue what nasty shit people carry around, and she could look like a nice girl, but she could have gonorrhea all up in there… always use a condom… And you don’t wanna get anyone pregnant, that would really suck… really, really suck…” He trailed off sleepily.

Ludwig thought he’d fallen asleep when he spoke up again, still groggy. “There was this one time I was fucking a chick…” Ludwig rolled his eyes. Gilbert continued, “The condom broke. She started seriously freaking out. And I mean, I know that’s not great and all, but she was like, really freaking out and I was like, what’s the big deal? I don’t have any STDs, and Plan B exists for a reason, y’know? And then she was yelling and screaming at me that I had to go buy her Plan B, and I was paying for it, and I was like, okay okay, I’d have rather split it but I didn’t wanna argue with her, and I was like, it’s okay, nothing bad’s gonna happen, and she said, it better not, I don’t want your fucking albino children…”

He fell silent. After a moment, he pressed his face into Ludwig’s shoulder. “…don’t blame her…”

Ludwig stared at his brother’s faint form. The pressure in his chest was from more than Gilbert’s arms, and the nausea in his gut and stinging in his eye went with it. Suddenly, he felt truly capable of hurting someone, the person responsible. But then he heard Gilbert’s soft snores, and instead of running off across campus to find the girl and give her a good, un-gentlemanly punch in the face, he settled for wrapping his arms around his brother protectively, as if he could keep away all hurt and unwanted words. The body that had seemed so magnificently powerful before suddenly seemed quite fragile in Ludwig’s muscular arms, and it struck Ludwig how much larger and stronger he had grown than his big brother. It made him a little sad, because some part of him still wished Gilbert would always be the one to take care of _him_. But, he thought as he rested his chin on Gilbert’s head in an odd inversion of their usual position, it was also so warming to feel needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First het scene I ever wrote, yikes... I hope it's enjoyable for all of you, even if you're a yaoi fan-and have no fear, it'll be mostly yaoi from here on out. I hope Kat (Ukraine) doesn't seem completely OOC, too-I feel like her only defining characteristic other than crying a lot (which would not be good here!) is that she's quite sweet and thoughtful, so I hope it worked okay... and sex changes people anyway, y'know? 
> 
> Please drop me a comment with your thoughts!
> 
> Next Chapter: Ludwig's thoughts (since he has so many) take him somewhere he never expected to go... and then he goes somewhere he never expected to go on Pride Day.


	7. Chapter 6, Part 1

“Said Myrtias (a Syrian student  
in Alexandria; in the reign of  
Augustus Constans and Augustus Constantius;  
in part a pagan, and in part a Christian);  
‘Fortified by theory and study,  
I shall not fear my passions like a coward.  
I shall give my body to sensual delights,  
to enjoyments dreamt-of,  
to the most daring amorous desires,  
to the lustful impulses of my blood, without  
any fear, for whenever I want --  
and I shall have the will, fortified  
as I shall be by theory and study --  
at moments of crisis I shall find again  
my spirit, as before, ascetic.’”

Herakles stopped reading and glanced up at Ludwig. “What do you think?” he asked slowly, indicating his copy of _The Collected Poems of Constantine P. Cavafy_.

“Um, about what?”

“Well, don’t you think it sounds a little bit dubious? The idea that you can just throw yourself into lustful pursuits… and then snap your fingers, and there, you’re back to normal?”

“Oh, uh, let me take a look at it again.” Ludwig reached out for the book they were sharing. It was the week’s selection for the book club; another Greek author, because no one except Herakles had bothered to come up with ideas for what to read next.

Ludwig scanned over the poem once again. “Hm. Well, for some reason it doesn’t seem like Cavafy takes the idea of ‘theory and study’ seriously…”

“Exactly. You’d be deluding yourself to think it could guard you from your more animalistic side… And maybe he’s even doubtful of an ‘ascetic spirit’ at all.”

“But… why? I’m not sure I agree with him. Not everyone is governed by lust.”

“Well, consider… Cavafy was homosexual in a time when it wasn’t acceptable to be homosexual… Well, not that it’s ‘acceptable’ even today, with so many hypocrites in the world… but anyway, maybe he’s commenting on the futility of denying one’s own natural instincts… Theory and study won’t make you straight if you’re gay.”

Ludwig’s face grew hot. How was it that everything he read, everything he discussed, seemed to always come back to the issue of homosexuality? “So what, everyone’s supposed to give up all pretenses of rationality and act on their impulses?”

“No, but maybe some impulses can’t be ignored, so don’t delude yourself that there’s always a rational self to return to. I was thinking of making that my discussion topic for the meeting.”

Ludwig stood up from his seat on the lounge couch. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt unsettled by that.

“Well, it sounds like… something that will get discussion going. I have to go do some homework.”

“Here, take the book with you, I’m finished with it.”

Ludwig took the proffered book and retreated to his room.

He settled on his bed with a sigh. He didn’t really have any pressing work to get to, as he’d already read as much of Dante’s _Inferno_ as was assigned for Western Lit tomorrow. He looked back down at the book in his hands and the picture of the poet on the cover, his large, intelligent eyes staring at him in black and white. Well, he might as well finish the reading for the book club then.

Ludwig flipped the book open to a poem he had not read.

_So much I gazed on beauty,  
that my vision is replete with it. _

_Contours of the body. Red lips. Voluptuous limbs._  
 _Hair as if taken from Greek statues;_  
 _always beautiful, even when uncombed,_  
 _and it falls, slightly, over white foreheads._  
 _Faces of love, as my poetry_  
 _wanted them.... in the nights of my youth,_  
 _in my nights, secretly, met...._

White forehead… uncombed hair… A vision wafted through Ludwig’s mind of the past weekend, seeing his brother over the back of the woman they had shared. It was still unreal days after the fact.

But this poem… it might as well have been written for Gilbert. Ludwig smiled slightly at the thought. If his brother had lived one hundred years ago, at the same time as Cavafy, he could easily see him sidling through the smoky bars described in others of his poems in search of a bold, secret tryst. And if he had met the poet, how could he not have inspired some writing? His glowing pale skin, his vivacious red eyes… Indeed, anyone would be lucky to have his brother.

Of course, they’d also have to put up with his whining and teasing and immaturity and laziness and carelessness and—well, the list went on. But still. Ludwig would count himself quite lucky if he ever found someone as caring and, quite honestly, attractive as his brother. Though, they’d have to be of the female variety.

He realized he’d spaced out and went on to the next poem. He still needed to think of his own question to pose to the group at the meeting.

_Like beautiful bodies of the dead who had not grown old_  
 _and they shut them, with tears, in a magnificent mausoleum,_  
 _with roses at the head and jasmine at the feet --_  
 _this is what desires resemble that have passed_  
 _without fulfillment; with none of them having achieved_  
 _a night of sensual delight, or a bright morning._

Hm, well that was talking about desires that went unfulfilled, quite unlike the poem that Herakles had called his attention to. But what was it supposed to mean? Cavafy described those unfulfilled desires so beautifully, perhaps idealizing what goes unconsummated… but the dead who had not grown old… How was that supposed to be a good thing? Was one supposed to achieve nights of sensual delight and bright mornings?

Ludwig didn’t feel like thinking through the problem at the moment. He would use this question for the book club, but right now, he was tired.

What he didn’t want to admit to himself was that the reason he was tired was because the night before he had stayed up much too late reading doujinshis and even a few fanfictions. Once he started, it was just so hard to stop. One led to another, led to another, and he couldn’t seem to get enough of those appealingly naughty illustrations. And Ludwig had never thought he’d be one for written erotica, but he was surprised by how downright hot some of the better written fanfictions were.

And even more surprised considering they were all about men. Why should this “boys’ love” intrigue him so on the page, when he’d never been attracted to boys in real life? Was it hypocritical of him to derive pleasure from observing these gay relationships without wanting one for himself? Ludwig had never given homosexuality much thought before, but now, quite suddenly, it seemed to be everywhere, and there was something about it that was so… magnetic. And watching his friends with their enthusiasm for Pride Day, with their defiantly casual attitudes towards sexuality, he almost felt like he was… missing out.

At the last book club meeting, he had discovered that Berwald, Tino, Feliks, and Toris were all going to the dance as well, and Matthias planned to stop by to “check out the chicks in lingerie.” And of course, Ludwig would be there. But would he feel like he belonged there?

There was no way to deny it; Ludwig had begun to wonder about some things. Could he ever, just hypothetically, potentially, see himself in a gay relationship? It’s not that he _wanted_ that, but it seemed to him that if he was going to look at gay manga porn, he ought to at least be open to the _idea_ of following through in real life.

It was time he put himself to the test, he decided. He would simply imagine himself with a guy and see how he reacted to the thought. But… what guy? What kind of guy would he even be attracted to? Did he have a “type?”

Ludwig racked his brain. There were those whom he supposed to be classically “attractive.” Take Gilbert’s friend Francis, for example, who looked like he could be a model for some shampoo commercial, and who must at least be bi, given how well he dressed. And Antonio, Ludwig assumed, would probably have many admirers for his nice build and flawless Mediterranean complexion. Roderich was more the delicate type, and perhaps one could even say… pretty?

It was odd to think of these _guys_ this way, but Ludwig forced himself to continue. There was also Feliciano. He seemed a little on the small side, but… Ludwig had to admit he admired the way he danced, the way he dressed himself with effortless flair… and he was so affectionate… But it was rather awkward to think about his own _roommate_ that way. Best to stay away from that.

He had to admit his own milieu seemed a little limited. Ludwig didn’t think he could ever be attracted to other guys in his grade—if he could be attracted to guys at all, that was. This was all purely objectively speaking, of course, but honestly boys his own age seemed so… immature. What about more grown men? Who did he even know?

Well… there were his teachers. He’d sometimes heard girls giggling over which of their young male teachers was the hottest, and certainly guys liked to talk about female teachers who were “eye candy” too. But out of all his teachers, the only one who didn’t immediately turn him off was Professor Kirkland. Actually come to think of it, he’d definitely heard girls in his class talking about how hot they thought he was.

Ludwig pondered for a moment. Was he really? His eyebrows were a little bushy, but—he supposed it fit his face, in an odd way. He certainly was youthful, but at least his features had the slightly sharper definition of a more mature man…

Ludwig blushed. He really shouldn’t think about his _professor_ like that. It would just make things uncomfortable in class.

Still, none of the guys he had thought of really did much for him. But surely there was some ideal of male beauty for him. He tried to think who he had ever been jealous of for their looks, who he had ever wanted to be more like…

Gilbert, he supposed. He had always thought himself so plain and uninteresting compared to his unique, wild brother. It’s not that Ludwig would want to have albinism, but Gilbert turned heads wherever he went. It probably wasn’t always a good thing, but still, Ludwig sometimes envied how much Gilbert stood out, not to mention Gilbert’s lithe form was so much less clumsy than Ludwig’s.

But that wouldn’t help Ludwig with his current purposes; he couldn’t very well imagine himself with his brother. Honestly anyone he knew would be a little awkward to imagine, so he settle for a generic kind of handsome man, as well as he could form one in his head, with fairly indistinguishable features.

Okay, this was easy. This was simple. Think about… his body. Touching it. A strong chest and arms, well-shaped legs.

Ludwig bit his lip. It was strange. The body in his mind was so like his own; it wasn’t like exploring something foreign, like he had felt with Kat. It was so familiar, the shape of a man’s body, his own body, but so different to think of it in this way. But he would certainly know how to pleasure it, if he knew what felt good to him.

Ludwig shifted uncomfortably on his bed. But he couldn’t stop now, he had further to go.

Now, kissing. Could he possibly kiss a guy? A man’s face, not at all the delicate female structure he was used to fantasizing about, between his hands. A strong jaw, chiseled lips, on his own…

He closed his eyes and let himself imagine it. Kissing a man whose face he couldn’t see, passionately. Feeling the hard flatness of his chest against his own. So much more firmness, squareness, than a woman’s soft form. And yet, it wasn’t bad. The thought really wasn’t all that bad, even if it was very, very strange. Not that he would want to kiss any guy he knew, but in the abstract sense, it was surprisingly alright.

But kissing was one thing. Further? Would he ever really be willing to be intimate with someone of his own sex? That would involve—

Here Ludwig blushed. The idea of taking it in the—ugh. He really wasn’t sure about this one. Sure, even some straight guys liked to be fingered, but, seriously, going all the way—wouldn’t that hurt like a bitch? And it was a dude’s _cock_ for God’s sake, that was just dirty…

But then, he had a cock, and one that he secretly prided himself on for its form and cleanliness. Kat hadn’t had a problem with it… Surely, if the other guy took care of his too, there wouldn’t be anything too dirty about it. And Ludwig was far from adverse to the idea of anal with women, so how was it any different with guys? But still, in his _own_ ass… ow…

Feliciano opened the door.

“Heyyy Luddy, whatchya up to?”

“Uhh… nothing…”

“Oh. Um, you okay Lud? You look a little off…”

“Oh, uh, really? No, I’m—I’m absolutely fine!”

“Oh, good, well—Guess what happened to me today!”

Ludwig sighed and resigned himself to listening to Feliciano ramble on about his latest daily adventure.

Nearly twenty minutes later, Ludwig had had enough.

“Uh, Feli, I need to go take a shower.”

“—and then he was—Oh, what? Okay. I hope you get hot water! This morning there was absolutely no hot water, and it was terrible, I had to take a cold shower and don’t you just hate those? I really hate them, I never feel right after them either. Like this one time in a hotel in Venice—”

Ludwig left the room with a vague “Mm-hm.”

_Finally, peace,_ he thought as he stepped into the shower and let the (mercifully) hot water run down his body.

As he washed away the grime of the day, he reflected on his earlier thought process. He wasn’t completely convinced by anything, but he had always thought of himself as a very tolerant, open-minded individual, even if he did tend to be a little uptight about rules. Now at least he didn’t feel completely hypocritical. He had never actually liked a guy, and doubted that he ever would—but then, when had he had a really serious crush on a girl? But he definitely wasn’t gay. Yet perhaps, if the right guy ever came along, given the opportunity, maybe, just _maybe_ … but still, it left so many questions hanging.

Ludwig paused in his washing, hands on his chest. Slowly, slowly, he trailed one down his side and reached behind to a firm buttock. Would he…?

His forefinger snaked down between his cheeks to brush lightly over his puckered hole. He circled it with his fingertip a few times, wondering. This felt sort of good…

He hesitated, then brought his hand back up and spit onto his fingers, rubbing fore and middle together to coat them well, then reached behind again. He rubbed them over his entrance, then pressed his forefinger against the tight ring. He sucked in through his teeth when the finger entered him quite easily, but not without a slight bit of discomfort.

Experimentally, he prodded around his walls. They were smoother and softer than he had expected. He swirled his finger along them and wriggled it a bit, surprised at the tiny waves of pleasure that pulsed through his gut, despite the extreme strangeness of having something inside of him.

Anxiously chewing his lip, Ludwig placed his second finger at his entrance. Bracing himself, he eased it in next to the first bit by bit. The immediate stretching in his anus stung just a bit, but once the finger was inside, it joined the other without difficulty.

Ludwig tried swirling them around, pumping in and out, working them like scissors, finding what felt good. He was especially pleased by the electric jolts he got from twiddling them quickly against each other.

After a while of this, he thought he could take more. He tentatively poked at his entrance with a third finger. Again, he experienced some discomfort at first, but was soon amazed by how well three fingers could fit inside of him, with just a dull burning at his entrance when he moved them. And what strange sensations, unlike anything he’d ever felt before… Stimulation, from _inside_ his body, in places he’d never thought he’d feel.

He hooked his fingers and reached in just a little further, wanting to feel more, exploring deeper…

He gasped. What was that? That thing that tingled so wonderfully through his groin? He pressed again in the same area and managed to produce the same reaction. He blushed. Had he just found his prostate?

Oh God, that was really nice… He pressed again, and again, and again, twitching a little and leaning into the wall for support.

But it just wasn’t enough. He’d made himself hard now, and there was no way he could get off from only the fingers inside of him. With his free hand, he reached down to take hold of his considerable erection.

It was a cumbersome position, with his hands reaching from opposite sides, and he’d never jacked off with his non-dominant hand before. Clumsily, he began the pumping motion, reveling in the novel experience of pleasure from both ends. He had to arch back in order to get the penetration he wanted, but the discomfort was worth it. He had hardly ever felt the need to cum so strongly, so soon. Three fingers were no cock, he knew, but who knew how good something could feel up the ass?

Ludwig closed his eyes and focused on his “fantasy” from earlier. Could he actually get off thinking about a guy? Well, that would certainly tell him something…

In his mind, his body was rubbing along another torso, so like his own, firm muscle and hot skin, like he knew a sexually attractive male’s ought to be. And there was a pair of hips rolling into his, thrusting deep, as deep as he could reach, desperately trying to hit that spot again and again. Strong hands roaming over his body, to grasp his cock and scrub, scrub, scrub so good; a male jaw and chin leading to a male mouth against his own, on his neck, chest, nipples, toying…

“Ohhh…” he breathed out, heavy panting drowned out by the jets of water cascading down his body and filling the room with steam as hazy as his brain. He wanted more, but it was so hard to do it all at once. He focused on hitting his prostate several more times, thinking of those masculine hips pounding into him, and could feel the searing heat pooling in his lower abdomen.

“Mmnff… Oh fuck…” he mouthed to the heavy, moist air, but it wasn’t enough, he just couldn’t fucking reach enough, and his left hand was too inept on his shaft.

Quickly, he withdrew his fingers from his hole, and, though disappointed at the feeling of emptiness, grasped his length with his right hand and set a furious pace. He wanted so badly to cum, so so badly—

“Heyyy, Ludwiiiig?” came Feliciano’s muffled voice through the bathroom door.

Ludwig stopped dead.

“Uh—ahem, ah, yeah?”

“Umm, you think you’ll be out soon? I gotta pee…”

“Ah, sorry, yeah, yeah, pretty soon—I’ll hurry.”

“’Kay, thanks!”

Ludwig’s face was burning. Shit. He couldn’t leave this unfinished, though. He went back to pumping vigorously, squeezing and rolling his balls with his other hand. Ah, ah, yes, now what image for this? How about… a blowjob.

Now his hand was the mouth of a boy, a boy kneeling in front of him and sucking him off… So strange, not to think of a girl there, looking up at him, but still it worked… A guy, a hot guy… No, not Francis or Kirkland, DEFINITELY not Feliciano… just some generic guy, and for christsakes NOT Gilbert!

He pushed all the familiar faces away and tried not to picture any face at all, it was just some guy, sucking, harder, harder—

“Luuud, you’re hurrying, riiight?”

“Yes! Yes, just a moment—”

“Okay… Hurry…”

Oh fuck fuck fuck, he was so close… Tongue, teeth, lips, hot guy…

His mouth hung open as he strained to hold in his groans. The pressure in his groin was unbearable, so close to bursting, and his wrist worked faster, faster—Oh yes, he was right there—

Ludwig’s every muscle tensed as his seed spurted onto the shower floor and was whisked away down the drain. His cock slowly stopped throbbing in his hand and he relaxed, quickly turning off the water.

He grabbed his towel and wrapped it around himself, but caught sight of his hand just as he reached for the door. He hadn’t washed it off, and suddenly he realized there were strings of red across his knuckles. _Shit_ , he cursed to himself, reaching for some toilet paper and lifting up his towel. Was he bleeding? Had he scratched himself inside?

He wiped off his fingers and stuck one gingerly back inside his entrance, but when he withdrew it there wasn’t much blood. He figured it was nothing to worry about and quickly wiped himself and washed his hands.

“Luuddyyyy…”

“Coming!”

Ludwig opened the door, gripping his towel around him, and Feliciano was a blur pushing past him into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

Still sopping wet, Ludwig stood in the small entryway of the suite, then realized he should probably go to his room before he made too much of a puddle on the floor.

As he toweled off, he tried to process what had happened. Okay, so he could get off to the thought of guys. So… what did that mean? Just that he was… open to exploration? …Gay? No, no, that couldn’t be it, he had gotten head from a hot chick last weekend and liked it. And he didn’t even know any guys he’d actually want to fuck. Probably.

Ludwig pulled his towel around him quickly as Feliciano came back into the room. “Phew, I feel a lot better now!” Feliciano beamed as he went over to his desk.

Ludwig blushed and turned away, suddenly quite self-conscious of how much of his skin was exposed, and of what he’d been doing minutes before. He dressed as quickly as possible.

…

Professor Kirkland cleared his throat. “So, you can see Dante is writing the _Inferno_ in response to a very specific political situation, but he’s on the losing side. And this text absolutely lampoons his opponents, but of course that doesn’t do him much good while he’s living in exile. So naturally, he seeks to validate his text by grounding it in an established literary tradition, most notably by using Virgil himself as a character in the text, because of course Virgil was a widely regarded master poet at the time. But let’s turn our attention to Dante’s attitude towards text in general, shall we? I’d like to read a passage from Canto V, line 118. This is in the Second Circle, for the Lustful, and Dante is addressing the shade Francesca and her lover Paolo da Rimini:

‘But tell me, in the time of gentle sighs,  
with what and in what way did Love allow you  
to recognize your still uncertain longings?’

“And skipping down a few lines, she responds:

‘One day, to pass the time away, we read  
of Lancelot—how love had overcome him.  
We were alone, and we suspected nothing.  
And time and time again that reading led  
our eyes to meet, and made our faces pale,  
and yet one point alone defeated us.  
When we had read how the desired smile  
was kissed by one who was so true a lover,  
this one, who never shall be parted from me,  
while all his body trembled, kissed my mouth.  
A Gallehault indeed, that book and he  
who wrote it, too; that day we read no more.’

“So, what do you make of that? What does that tell you about Dante and text in general?” He paused and looked around the room.

A girl to Ludwig’s right spoke up. “Well, it reminds me of St. Augustine, since it seems like they’re both warning about the dangers of reading books that aren’t specifically Christian in thought.”

Kirkland nodded. “Right, right, so… text can be dangerous, right? But what is the nature of that danger? Yes, Mathias.”

Mathias leaned forward. “Well, the danger seems to be that reading can validate thoughts. Like, I often feel like, when I’m reading, I come across thoughts that seem very familiar, only the author has put them into words so that they’re more… crystallized, I guess. And when I read that, I feel like I’m not alone in having that thought, so I guess I feel like the text is some sort of authority for some reason and my thoughts are therefore legitimate. But Dante seems to be recognizing that tendency but warning that maybe not all texts should be taken as authorities.”

Kirkland smiled. “Yes, a very good point.”

Ludwig furrowed his brow. Why couldn’t he think of comments like Mathias made? He wished he could think of something like that to say, then Kirkland would look at him in that approving way, with that glint of excitement he got in his eye when he was so into his lecturing.

Kirkland continued. “The written word does seem to carry a certain authority to it, doesn’t it? Just inherently, because someone at some point thought that their thoughts were worth recording, making permanent. And that permanence of the written word gives it some weight that the spoken word usually seems to lack. And then, I like that word you used, ‘crystallized’; I think it describes the effect of reading on the reader quite well. The written word, with its authority, reinforces thought. And here, we see the consequences, according to Dante: two chaste people are led to start an adulterous affair because their feelings are affirmed by the tale of Lancelot’s love, and are thereafter condemned to the Circle of Lust in Hell, where their torment is to be buffeted about by strong winds for all eternity, unable to control their bodies physically in death, just as they were unable to control their bodies by virtue of their will in life, when they allowed themselves to be buffeted about by the winds of lust, so to speak.”

After class, thoughts of the winds of lust, the torments of Hell, and the dangers of reading all swirled through Ludwig’s mind, but were soon forgotten as he settled at a table in the library to study for a psychology exam.

…

It was Thursday night. The night before Pride Day, which Ludwig had been mostly dreading each day for the greater part of two weeks.

He had refused Gilbert’s offer to lend him his pair of boxers decorated in a pattern of little yellow chicks, and opted instead for his own most respectable, simple pair in light blue. Light blue didn’t seem like too gay a colour, right? But that seemed like an ironically trivial thing to wonder when going to a gay dance party.

Over the past few days, since his “epiphany” of sorts—not that is was anything actually earth-shattering, more simply eye-opening, he liked to think—Ludwig had been trying to come to terms with the fact that his sexuality was, so to say, questionable. There was nothing wrong with being bi, if he even was bi, he told himself. Gilbert was bi, and he turned out—okay, he supposed. So what if he wanted to try kissing a guy some time? No big deal. It wasn’t like he was making any life-altering decisions. Heck, college was the time for experimentation anyways, right? There were probably plenty of people who dabbled in homosexuality in college and then went on to lead perfectly normal, straight lives, and get married and have lots of babies. Not that the last bit was particularly appealing to Ludwig either, but then, who knew what he might want when he was in his thirties or forties? Nothing he did now was going to alter the course of his life.

On top of that, Ludwig was drawn back again and again to the manga series he had started, or more specifically, to the fanworks devoted to it, mostly of the “yaoi” variety, as he’d learned this boys’ love was called. Every day he felt he needed to see or read at least a little, just a daily fix. Or more. And maybe he was simply becoming habituated to it, but he was almost okay now with the idea of enjoying this variety of pornography. It was at least more substantive and even wholesome than the commercial kind, certainly. But he wasn’t about to go broadcasting his tastes to the world.

What he was not okay with, however, was the fact that almost every time he started exploring for a new doujin or fanfic to read, he found himself drawn to click on those about the two brothers. He couldn’t help it—they were simply his favorite characters, so of course he would want a story focusing on the both of them. But most of the stories happened to be sexual in nature. And guiltily, he had to admit he liked them. _Really_ liked them. The hottest pictures were of the brothers together, the most tingle-inducing sex scenes were between them.

Ludwig told himself it was just a coincidence, that the best artists and authors did work on that pairing, and that the brothers individually were simply the hottest so of course they’d make the hottest couple. But what kind of logic was that? Brothers fucking brothers was never supposed to be hot… What the fuck was wrong with him? Because something was definitely wrong, when time and again he was attracted to the idea of their incestuous encounters.

Again, Ludwig felt like a hypocrite. He had a brother, for God’s sake, and fucking Gilbert was—just, unimaginable! How could he want to see even fictional siblings in such an erotic light when he couldn’t even think of kissing his own brother in a romantic way… Or could he?

Thursday night, Ludwig was looking with great interest at a sentimental picture of the brothers in a passionate lip-lock when it hit him. No, he didn’t actually want to kiss Gilbert—how could one want to do such a thing to their brother?—but could he even think it? If he forced the image into his mind, his immediate, natural reaction was repulsion, of course. But could he work past that? If he wasn’t utterly disgusted by the mere thought of kissing his brother, then perhaps he wouldn’t feel so guilty liking it when other brothers did that. It was odd reasoning, perhaps, but at least he wouldn’t feel like he was willing the characters to do such terribly dirty things.

Okay, easy enough. Gilbert. Picture Gilbert. Gilbert’s lips on his—ughh, so uncomfortable, too uncomfortable! But he had a purpose here. He had to try. And he was a little curious… Maybe this would help illuminate why he liked the brothers together so much?

He imagined his brother’s face right in front of his, their parted lips slowly meeting. Not so bad, then, right? Worse had happened when they had both gone down on Kat together.

Now he was pressing into his brother’s face slightly. He didn’t want to, he really didn’t want to, but he did. Gilbert’s eyes, right in front of him, were closed, and their noses brushed. And then, Gilbert would snake his tongue into Ludwig’s mouth, and they would kiss for real. His own flesh-and-blood brother, frenching him. So very, very strange to think.

And yet, the longer Ludwig forced himself to focus on that image of his brother holding him so close the more it became… simply not so bad. His bile did not rise at it, his mind did not recoil as if burned. He could sustain the thought. It was just… Gilbert, kissing him. And while it was so unnatural, it also seemed somehow so… natural. Simply by virtue of the fact that he knew and loved Gilbert far better than anyone else, let alone anyone he had ever kissed.

But who was he kidding? Natural was the furthest word from accurately describing the scene in his head. But God, why were brothers so hot? Gilbert may have been attractive in his own right, but Ludwig thought, with almost a tinge of sadness, that he would never derive the same pleasure from a sexual fantasy about his brother as from the hypothetical incest of the characters.

Jesus Christ what was wrong with him though? Was he trying to turn his own brother into a masturbatory object to fulfill his own sick, inexplicable desire for incest fantasies, fictional or not? This was a real person he was thinking about, _his own brother_ no less, not something to objectify for sexual gratification.

And yet… The only plausible reason Ludwig could think he liked reading about incest was because of the taboo nature, and Ludwig had always been drawn to the most deviant things he could find, the most deliciously against the rules… Perhaps because he usually followed all rules so closely, carefully, he got an extra thrill out of the thought of breaking them. And what could be more rule-breaking than his brother’s mouth on his, his tongue dancing over his own, his hands searching his body…

These thoughts made Ludwig’s gut clench uncomfortably. He was actually quite repulsed at his own imagination—he wasn’t supposed to be able to think about his sibling that way—and yet that instinctual knot in the stomach and lump in the throat only egged him on, almost like a taunt. _How far can you go, Ludwig?_ They were only thoughts, after all. The more disgusting the better: hot breath on his face, tongue down his throat, chests rubbing against each other, hands gripping at flesh, strong arms holding close, so close, and Gilbert’s scent filling his nostrils—

_Ringggg, ringggg!_

Ludwig’s hand shot out for his cell phone sitting on his desk. His heart jumped into his throat when he saw who it was.

“Ah, hey, what’s up?”

“Kesese, don’t sound so enthusiastic Luddy! Say, you free tomorrow afternoon?”

“Um, well, I have class, but, when?”

“Between four and five? I’m working the booth for Pride Day and my partner bailed on me, I need a second man, all you gotta do is sell shit.”

Ludwig sighed. “Sure…”

“Awesome! Thanks bro, I owe ya one! See ya tomorrow at four then!”

“Yeah, okay…”

“Alright, good night! Love you!”

“…Love you too.”

“…Hey, everything okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, yeah…”

“Oh, okay… Well then, see you tomorrow!”

“…Bye—”

_Click._

He wasn’t sure if he’d gotten the last word in on time.

Ludwig sat at his desk, staring dejectedly into space. He didn’t think he’d ever known so well what it meant to feel like shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering, the Cavafy poems I used are "Dangerous Things," "So much I gazed," and "Desires." His poems are lovely, you should all go read some more. 
> 
> Next part: Underwear party!


	8. Chapter 6, Part 2

“Hey, hey Lud.”

“Hm.”

“Check it out.”

Ludwig glanced at his brother seated next to him and saw that Gilbert had swiped a mini donut from their bake sale table and was now wearing it like a monocle over one eye, squinting at him through the hole.

“No hands! Kesese!”

“I hope you paid for that.”

“Aw c’mon, they’re like, 50 cents,” he pointed out, letting the pastry fall from his face into his hand. He held it out to Ludwig. “Want a 50 cent donut? I’ll even give it to you for free!”

“No thank you.”

“Hmm, neither do I really, come to think of it…” He looked around and spotted a trashcan next to the door of the student center. He took aim and tossed the donut in, making a perfect arc a few meters long. “Score! Kesese!”

“Gilbert, that was a complete waste. It’s supposed to be funding your club’s party.”

“Chillax, bro. We never sell everything anyway. And it’s not ‘my’ club, I’m not even on the board.” Gilbert tilted his chair back and began rocking it on two legs, pushing off the edge of the table.

“Don’t do that, it’s not safe.”

“Jesus Christ Lud, I’m not gonna fucking die, okay?” He pushed his sunglasses up his nose in an agitated gesture.

Ludwig shut up at that. His brother sounded slightly annoyed; it was a tone he didn’t often take with Ludwig, and the younger brother couldn’t help but feel slightly ashamed whenever he heard it. And in this case, he couldn’t really blame Gilbert. Ludwig had to admit he’d been a little terse ever since arriving to help Gilbert run the LGBTA club stand, getting people to buy sweets or tickets for the dance and sign petitions.

Gilbert hadn’t really done anything out of the ordinary to deserve his behavior, he knew, so what had him so on edge? Was it stress over all the schoolwork that suddenly seemed to be piling up? Just lack of sleep? Nerves over the dance tonight? Or… Ludwig liked to think it had nothing to do with the fact that he couldn’t seem to get the unwelcome memory of his thoughts from last night out of his head.

A the most innocuous of times, in the line for lunch or while Professor Kirkland was lecturing, the image of his brother with his tongue down his throat would pop into his mind, an annoying reminder of something he would rather forget. In all honesty, Ludwig didn’t have much of a reaction to the images—he felt distanced from them, dissociated, like some outside observer objectively watching two people making out—but still, they were more than distracting. Then, even when he didn’t need to be focusing his attention elsewhere, the recurring fantasy of an incestuous kiss was not really what he wanted going through his head. God, what a strange place the mind was, that you could be thinking of something so terribly wrong and dirty while the smiling lady behind the counter asked you what kind of sandwich you wanted.

Or, worse yet, Ludwig would find his mind roaming back to his brother’s sinful touch of lips and flesh while seated directly next to that very brother, or even, momentarily, while looking his brother in the eye and listening to him debating with himself about chocolate chip cookies versus brownies, or how much he liked his philosophy class even if he never had time to do all the reading.

It made Ludwig feel sick. Sick with himself. Not for thinking such things about his own brother, but for thinking such things and hardly feeling anything, continuing with his daily routine as unaffected by his “crime,” as he considered it, as some cold-blooded killer. God, what was wrong with him? Not only did he think about his brother kissing him all day, but he couldn’t even feel guilt properly. All he could feel was a detached interest in his own thoughts, and think _how strange, how very strange_.

But, they were only thoughts… so why should he feel guilty? He hadn’t actually done anything wrong, right? The mind was a place for experimentation and play because you could do things in your mind you would never be able to do, or even truly want to do, in real life. So there was nothing wrong with the fact that he got a slight amused thrill as Gilbert reached over to ruffle his hair because Ludwig was thinking about that hand in other places, doing wicked things to his body… Gilbert would never know.

So why didn’t Ludwig want to meet his brother’s eyes after Gilbert had thoroughly mussed up his hair? Why did his gut feel so hot and clenched all of a sudden? Was that guilt? Because this really wasn’t fair to Gilbert. To be thinking those things while Gilbert was simply being the at turns annoying and doting big brother he always was, mind preoccupied with completely clean ideas about how best to provoke or amuse his dear, innocent little brother.

And still Ludwig couldn’t bring himself to feel as bad as he knew he should.

But he brushed it aside. So easily. Too easily.

He tried to fix his hair and finally looked up at his brother. No real reason not to look him in the eye, right?

Ludwig could tell Gilbert was in one of his moods. When he felt like Ludwig was annoyed with him his way of coping was only to try and provoke him more. It never helped.

Ludwig made the decision not to lose his temper, however, and instead asked his brother about his day, trying to sound as disarming as possible. Gilbert relaxed, and for the next half hour or so Ludwig even managed to forget all incestuous thoughts.

…

“Luddy, are you coming?” Feliciano stood looking back at his roommate expectantly. In nothing but short yellow boxers.

Ludwig stood petrified, clutching his coat protectively around him. “Um, I… I don’t know if this is the best idea Feli…”

“Aw c’mon Ludwig! Of course it is! Take off your coat—it’ll be fine! Everyone’s dressed like this!”

Exactly, he thought with dread, but nevertheless began removing his coat gingerly.

He felt overexposed and bare, the way one did when alone in a doctor’s office changing surreptitiously into the flimsy examination gown.

He reluctantly handed his coat over to the coat check and stood awkwardly in his powder blue boxers.

“What are you waiting for? Herakles and Kiku are already inside!” Feliciano slipped through the open door and Ludwig followed with a sigh.

Ludwig looked around the spacious multipurpose room of the student center, taking in the rainbow colored decorations in the intermittent dance club lighting and the pounding bass of the song people were already dancing to on the other side of the room. In their underwear, of course. Ludwig noticed that many seemed to have less than perfect bodies, however, and relaxed just a little to know this really wasn’t an underwear model show.

Before he could figure out what to do with himself in the awkward interim before the real partying started, he noticed two people making their way towards where he and Feliciano stood by the entrance.

One of them waved enthusiastically. “Hi Ludwig!” It was Elizaveta, accompanied by Roderich.

“Hi Liz,” he responded, blushing profusely when he got a better look at her. She had on a lacy black push-up bra and matching panties, accompanied by sleek black stilettos to complete the look.

Ludwig glanced at Roderich, who looked slightly uncomfortable, though he wasn’t sure if it was due to the fact that he was clad only in a pair of patched-up purple boxer shorts or because of what his girlfriend was wearing.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Elizaveta beamed.

“Me too,” said Ludwig, forcing what he was sure was a very awkward smile while trying his best to keep his eyes above Liz’s shoulders.

“Hi Feli,” Liz chimed, turning to the shorter boy.

“Good to see you, Elizaveta! You look wonderful!” Feliciano gave her an unabashedly tight hug.

The two seemed to have become quite close over just a few weeks of book club and LGBTA meetings. Ludwig took note that Elizaveta didn’t even seem to care that Feliciano’s head naturally rested right against her breasts when they hugged—certainly that was something she would only let a gay guy do?

Feliciano pulled back and waved uncharacteristically timidly to Roderich. “Uh, hi Roderich.” Ludwig remembered Feliciano had told him he found the musician slightly intimidating, which seemed odd to Ludwig. He was happy to see Roderich there; it meant he probably wasn’t the only one who felt uncomfortable about this evening. Kiku was probably in the same boat as well—in fact, he was surprised the modest boy had even come at all, given his reaction to Ludwig being half-clothed before. Perhaps the change had something to do with dating Herakles…

Roderich smiled at Feliciano, trying to seem friendly as he greeted him, though he was still stiffly polite.

“Well come on you guys, you’ll want a good view for the show!” Elizaveta beckoned them away.

“Show?” intoned Ludwig.

“Yeah, didn’t Gilbert tell you about… um, well, you’ll see!”

Ludwig wasn’t sure he liked the mischievous glint in Liz’s eye.

“Oh, okay… Hey, where is Gilbert?”

“Ah, he’s… he’ll be by later. Look, I gotta go get ready for something, you just wait here, it’s gonna start soon!” Elizaveta slipped away through the growing crowd.

She had led them next to a raised stage area, which Ludwig supposed would be involved in this “show.”

He turned to Roderich. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”

Roderich sighed. “No, she wanted to surprise me, she said. I did hear something about burlesque dancers, though…” He sniffed distastefully.

“B-burlesque dancers?”

Feliciano squealed beside him. “It’s gonna be good, I promise! I helped plan it!”

Ludwig wheeled around to his roommate incredulously. “You hired burlesque dancers?!”

“Heehee, not exactly!”

Ludwig was growing more uncertain by the second. Burlesque. Wasn’t that, like, a strip tease? He wasn’t sure he wanted to see people taking off their clothes. There was already a dearth of clothing in this room. Well, perhaps removing clothing wasn’t such a bad thing, but… with so many people around?

Just then the bright lights came up on the stage and the music stopped. A voice rang through the sound system.

“Ladies and gentlemen of either sex, kings and queens and in-betweens, how are you all doing tonight?”

A small cheer went up from the crowd gathering closer to the stage.

“Oh, that was, like, totally pathetic,” drawled the voice. “I asked how are you _doing_ tonight?”

A more enthusiastic cheer arose.

Ludwig squinted in concentration. That voice was so familiar…

“That’s more like it, bitches! Now get ready to meet your totally fabulous host!”

Ludwig’s eyes snapped wide. Was that… Feliks’ voice?

Before he got another chance to listen, the answer appeared before him on the stage in thigh-high boots, a mini-skirt, and stuffed bra. Despite the elaborate drag queen makeup, there was no denying it: it was Feliks. So he did wear skirts after all.

Ludwig was too stunned by the spectacle of the racy feminine outfit to catch what Feliks was saying though, and before he knew it the blond boy had stepped aside and the music had started again as another gaudily clad figure slinked onstage under multicolored lights.

Ludwig assumed it was a boy, though if he had been shown a photograph out of context he might have guessed otherwise. A silk red dress clung to his lean figure and long red gloves accentuated his slender arms. He began swaying his hips sensuously to the beat and Ludwig found himself blushing slightly when he began suggestively pulling one glove off with his teeth.

If the crowd was already going wild, Ludwig didn’t know how to describe it when the boy undid a hidden clasp at his shoulder and shrugged right out of the sleek gown, revealing a glittering red body-hugging mini-dress beneath.

Elizaveta had made sure he got a front row view, and now Ludwig was appreciating the benefits, albeit rather embarrassedly. He reddened to the shade of the dress at the boy’s lewd gestures, and yet he couldn’t help but trail his eyes up the long stockinged and gartered legs disappearing under the fringe of the dress.

The dancer made his way closer to the edge of the stage and Ludwig caught himself glancing up the skirt that left practically nothing to the imagination as the red-stilettoed feet passed near him. Suddenly they stopped, however, and Ludwig realized the performer had decided to continue his dance directly in front of him. The stage wasn’t very high, either—Ludwig could easily reach out and touch one of those slim legs… if he had wanted.

The dancer turned his back to the audience. Ludwig looked up and saw, to his dismay, that the boy was now slowly pulling the dress’ zipper down his back, revealing smooth flesh inch by tantalizing inch.

Ludwig wanted to look away but his eyes were glued to the exhibition mere feet from where he stood.

By the time the boy turned back around he had removed the dress completely, and Ludwig could feel the blood rushing to his face at the sight of a male body clad only in satiny red underwear, garters, stockings, and heels. The situation could not get any more embarrassing, he thought.

A moment later, however, he was proven wrong. The boy crouched down directly in front of Ludwig with legs spread wide and started gyrating his hips. Ludwig forced himself to look away from the crotch practically shoved in his face, mortified beyond belief. All these people could see him! Him, Ludwig, with a virtual male stripper practically giving a lap dance to his face. If that was possible.

Suddenly he felt his arm being grabbed and realized in shock that the scantily clad boy was pulling his hand towards his body. He placed it on his thigh forcefully and began moving Ludwig’s hand in rough circles, getting dangerously close the shiny red underwear as the onlookers shouted woots of encouragement.

Processing all this, Ludwig was about to jerk his hand away, perhaps not quite as indignant as he’d have others think, when he glanced at the boy’s face and stopped. Through false eyelashes, eyeliner and lipstick, he finally realized who was staring back at him: Francis.

Ludwig froze in shock before remembering his hand and tugging it away, ducking his head down to try to hide his furious blush. Francis simply gave him a lascivious smile and wink before moving away.

Feliciano was laughing hysterically next to Ludwig. “Woohoohoo, Luddy, you should have seen your face! Hahahaha!”

Roderich did not seem as amused, to Ludwig’s relief.

When he next got up the courage to glance at Francis he saw that he was lavishing attentions on another audience member. It took a few moments of drawing a blank for him to realize it was Matt, his RA. Ludwig felt something flare inside of him. Gilbert was interested in him; Francis shouldn’t be doing—oh my, that. Matt was supposed to be his brother’s!

His brother…

No, no! He wouldn’t think about that now.

Finally Francis ended his dance, but he paused just before stalking offstage and ripped off the red underwear, revealing nothing but a jockstrap beneath. He smacked his revealed ass before disappearing behind the curtain to the wild cheers of the spectators.

Ludwig felt sure he would be scarred for life.

The performance continued with more dancers, guys and girls, each with their own elaborate, gender-bending outfits. Ludwig was actually rather impressed (and embarrassed) when he realized the androgynous figure in a top hat, tuxedo, and elegant moustache was actually Elizaveta doing a vaudevillian act. It wasn’t until he saw the bra that he recognized her. Roderich seemed a little embarrassed, too, but Ludwig didn’t miss the gleam of pure adoration in his eyes as he watched his girlfriend playfully remove her man’s clothing.

The act after Elizaveta was what really caught Ludwig’s attention, though. The flatness of the performer’s leather corset made it obvious this was a male, but with that tight leather miniskirt and those thigh-high boots with dangerously pointy heels, Ludwig was sure even a straight guy would have a hard time keeping his eyes off the sight.

To cap off the deliciously naughty assemblage of leather, the boy was wearing a police cap and bandit mask. There was something so… alluring, about not being able to see his face. And then, Ludwig had always been a sucker for authoritarian figures, and that police cap… He found himself leaning in closer.

And what was that in his hand? A crop?! _Oh shit…_ Suddenly Ludwig’s skin felt quite… busy. Hot.

He caught his mouth gaping open as the boy trailed the leather instrument across his body and shut it quickly, but his eyes never left the performer. He was so caught up in his own enthusiasm he didn’t even notice the crowd’s as the boy removed the clinging skirt.

The boy stalked forward, swaying his hips now clad in only a pair of sparkly black underwear. He stopped directly in front of Matt and began unlacing the corset. He pulled it down and started using the crop to play with his nipples a little with a huge grin on his face. Ludwig had to suppress an undignified noise in the back of his throat and then clenched his mouth shut—when had he started gaping again?

The boy wriggled the corset the rest of the way down his body and stepped out, leaving the multicolored lights free to play across the expanse of revealed skin. He bent over and started rubbing the crop suggestively over his thighs and backside, of which Ludwig had a perfect view, as it was protruding in his direction. Ludwig was riveted.

Ludwig noticed that this boy too was leering at Matthew a bit. Boy, did Gilbert have some competition. He caught himself wishing this boy would single him out like Francis had, but immediately retracted the thought, realizing how embarrassing that would be. Besides, he didn’t want to give everyone here the wrong impression about his orientation.

The boy removed his police hat and playfully plopped it down on Matthew’s head, causing the quiet blond to blush and smile a little. Ludwig told himself the pang in his gut that felt strangely akin to jealousy was only on his brother’s behalf; if Matthew was as into this guy as he looked, Gilbert would have his work cut out wooing him.

The boy reached back to untie his mask next, and Ludwig leaned in to get a clear view of his face, which was a little difficult with all the swirling lights. He could feel his heart pounding as the mask slowly slipped away to reveal—

Ludwig forgot how to breathe. His heart stopped. His stomach dropped.

For a moment he was sure his eyes were deceiving him—it wasn’t possible, it wasn’t true—but no, there was no mistake: this lewd performer, this boy who had so captivated him, had even made him feel almost like he was watching some of his favorite online entertainment, was none other than his brother.

Oh, God.

Ludwig wanted to curl up in a corner and die.

He glanced around as Gilbert left the stage, heart suddenly remembering to beat again but going about twice the necessary pace, to see whether anyone had caught the looks he had unknowingly been giving his own brother. Roderich was averting his eyes with a blush, thankfully, but Feliciano was staring right at Ludwig with a huge grin.

“Hehe, you’re brother’s very talented, isn’t he?”

Ludwig hoped his furious blush wasn’t too apparent in this lighting. “Whatever,” he mumbled, unable to think of a better response. What would a person normally say if someone insinuated something about their sibling’s sexual appeal? Of course, it was hard to tell if Feliciano’s thoughts even tended that way, but… how could they not, after _that_ performance?

But Feliciano was right, Ludwig thought, as Feliks made some closing comments and the crowd applauded and whooped. Gilbert was talented, in a way Ludwig had never thought nor cared to consider. And more than that, he was—well, he was hot. It was simply an objective fact. Gilbert was hot.

_I have a hot brother,_ Ludwig thought, almost experimentally, trying how it sounded in his mind.

Squirming in his stomach. Catch in his throat. But no, it wasn’t that _he_ thought Gilbert was hot—he simply was, and the crowd’s reaction to his act only supported that. Just a fact, not his opinion.

_Just a fact._

But Ludwig had been thinking of kissing him all day, hadn’t he? Kissing his _hot brother_ —No, no no _no!_ They were just thoughts, stupid thoughts, didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t as if he would ever actually consider _doing_ it. Just his mind, thinking… weird things. Experiments. Thoughts. Not real.

“Luddy, come on! Let’s dance!”

“Huh?”

“Dance!” Feliciano was grinning at him eagerly.

“Oh, um… I don’t know if I feel like dancing…”

“Hmm, I think I have a cure for that!”

Ludwig was slightly shocked when he grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the corner of the room where the refreshments were set up, going around to the back of one of the tables.

Feliciano lifted up the plastic tablecloth and started rummaging around underneath. He beckoned for Ludwig to crouch down as well, and he obliged hesitantly. From what looked like a woman’s purse, Feliciano produced a black plastic bag carrying a large glass bottle.

Feliciano turned to Ludwig with a grin. “It’s Liz’s, but she said to help ourselves! She’s so nice!”

Ludwig’s eyes bulged. “Is that alcohol? You’re not allowed to bring alcohol into the student center!”

“Haha, lighten up, Lud! People do it all the time! No one’s checking!”

People did it all the time? How would he know that? Ludwig felt a familiar pang of envy at how a part of the group his roommate seemed to be that he would know already what typical practices were.

“Hmph.”

“Seriously, most people pre-gamed before coming here anyway. Trust me, no one’s sober at these things! Let’s get drunk together, Ludwig!”

Ludwig frowned at Feliciano’s excited smile, then at the bottle in his hand. He thought of the dancing, the mostly-naked people making noise and having a good time, and sighed. He could use all the help he could get to survive tonight, and, well, he might as well try to enjoy it, right?

“Sure.”

“Yay! _Salute!_ ” Feliciano unscrewed the top of the bottle and took swig, making a face before passing it off to Ludwig.

He sniffed the golden-brown liquid inside. “What is it, anyway?”

“Whiskey, I think,” Feliciano responded, sticking his tongue out in disgust. But then his expression changed. “But hey, it’s alcohol! Just drink it quickly!”

Ludwig braced himself and chugged a few swallows before the burn hit him. He coughed. “Ugh, tastes like shit,” he rasped.

Feliciano laughed. “I know, right? I can’t believe I’m drinking it!” He grabbed the bottle back for another mouthful. He cringed again. “Gosh, I can’t wait to go back home! My parents have the best wine cellar, they get their stuff from Italy!”

Ludwig nodded, accepting the bottle again. “That sounds nice right now.” He drank again. “Or some good beer.” He wiped a drip off his chin.

Several passes later he glanced at the half-empty bottle in his hand with vaguely blurred eyes. “Maybe we should leave off…”

“Haha, yeah, I’m buzzed!” his drinking companion shouted happily.

Ludwig looked over at the genuine smile on Feliciano’s face.

“How are you always so happy?” he blurted out.

“Huh?” Feliciano looked surprised, but he regained his smile. “I dunno, what is there to not be happy about, really? I mean, sometimes some things suck, and sometimes I get freaked out by stuff, you know? But hey, why not be happy whenever there’s nothing keeping you from being happy, right? Life’s more fun that way!” He threw his arms up and hit the underside of the table with his hand. “Ow.”

“Hm. I never really thought about it that way…”

“Most people don’t, but then, most people are unhappy.” He still had that wide grin plastered on his face. “In the end the stuff that makes them unhappy just isn’t worth being unhappy over, though, usually. I think very few people actually have stuff in their lives that it’s worth being unhappy about.”

“Oh…” That seemed odd to Ludwig. But he wasn’t really sure he had caught everything his roommate had said. He would have to ponder this when his head cleared.

“Hmm, what do we have here?” said a familiar voice above them.

Ludwig looked up at red satiny underwear, then a little higher to Francis’ smirking face. Behind him Antonio was beaming down at them as well.

“Enjoying yourselves? What are you drinking?” inquired the Frenchman, bending down.

“Um, it’s tequi—wait, no—what is it again, Feli? Oh, whiskey, right! But it’s pretty nasty.”

“Ah, trying to drink away the memory of your brother in that delightful BDSM get-up, hm?”

Ludwig blushed. “N-no…”

Francis laughed. “I apologize for that little show earlier, by the way; you see, I was simply looking for someone I knew in the front row to have a little fun with—have to work the crowd at these things, no?”

“Oh, oh yeah, of course…”

“Well why don’t you two leave the nasty whiskey and come join the party then?” he asked with a glint in his eye.

“Yeah, you wanna dance now Luddy?” Feliciano poked his arm repeatedly.

“Oh, I guess…”

Francis offered him a hand up. “Good! Antonio and I were just taking a little refreshment break.”

“Yeah, care for a brownie?” Antonio held up a plate.

A snack actually sounded quite good after drinking. “Thanks,” Ludwig said, taking one.

“Oo! Yeah, I want brownies!” Feliciano grabbed one and stuffed half in his mouth before practically gagging and spitting it into a trashcan. “Guh, it’s nearly as bad as Professor Kirkland’s!”

Ludwig chewed on the brownie and thought it was a little dry, but his drunken tastes weren’t very discriminating.

“Aw, you’re wasting it…” Antonio pouted at Feliciano.

“You’re in Professor Kirkland’s class?” Francis asked with an odd expression.

“Hm? No, but I’m in the book club he leads. He brought these awful brownies once.”

“I’m taking a class with him,” Ludwig offered.

“Ah…” Francis arched an eyebrow. “I took his class with your brother, you know.”

“Oh yeah? Cool.”

“‘Cool?’ Perhaps… Well, anyway, shall we dance?”

Ludwig swallowed the last of his brownie, albeit with some difficulty, and shrugged. “Okay.”

They found a spot in the midst of the dancing crowd, which was only swelling in numbers as the night wore on. Ludwig recognized Berwald dancing with a rather uncomfortable looking Tino, and Felix and Toris were with Liz and Roderich. Mercifully no sign of Gilbert.

There were a few other familiar faces, but he realized he hadn’t seen Herakles or Kiku anywhere. Or more like Herakles and Kiku; the two were practically inseparable these days.

“Hey Feli, where did Herakles and Kiku go?”

“Hm? Oh, I dunno, probably making out in a corner!”

He blushed. “Oh…”

He tried to forget about that and just dance. Feliciano was right; the alcohol had loosened him up considerably. His shoulders and hips felt unusually fluid as he coordinated his movements to the beat of the pounding music.

The bodies were tightly packed, but Ludwig was too buzzed to mind. Feliciano bumped into him a few times, but he didn’t care, nor did he think anything of the way Francis kept brushing against him: a shoulder, a thigh.

Suddenly, though, they were really standing quite close. But instead of maintaining the integrity of his personal bubble as he usually would, he simply observed the effect of the lights over Francis’ shoulder and chest, which seemed to take up most of his field of vision. Ludwig could almost feel the heat radiating from his body, filling his insides with a nervous warmth. Contact seemed quite appealing—not in a sexual way, of course, he didn’t think of Francis that way, and he wasn’t gay anyway—but somehow, that skin just felt so nice.

His hand brushed against Francis’ arm. He didn’t acknowledge it though, made no sign of recognition of this slow drawing together of bodies, nonchalant, while his stomach twisted, wanting closer, closer.

He thought he felt a little light-headed as he took in Francis’ face, golden locks falling around high cheekbones carelessly as he moved to the rhythm of the music. Surely, he was what people would call a beautiful man.

He must be doing it on purpose. With every beat Francis’s side, hip, brushed against Ludwig’s. Not much, but enough, a fleeting touch of smooth warmth like a silk cloth just flitting over his skin, never lingering.

Was… was he flirting with him? The thought stuck Ludwig quite suddenly. It wasn’t a possibility he would usually even consider, but given the nature of this party, and not to mention Francis’ special attentions onstage earlier, he had to admit it was a distinct possibility. He felt a little out of his depth at the idea of a boy flirting with him (not that the situation was familiar with girls either), and yet somehow it was… flattering. The idea that Francis would want _him_ , was paying attention to _him_ when surely he could get any (gay) guy he wanted.

But it was frightening too.

He was saved from deciding whether to stay or try to get away by a pair of arms clasping around his shoulders from behind.

“Found you!” Gilbert’s grinning face appeared over his shoulder, mask-less and hat-less.

“Oh, hey Gil.”

“That’s all I get, after that fucking awesome show I put on?” Gilbert released him to stand by his side.

Ludwig glanced down and blushed to see his brother had retained the thigh-high boots. “Uh…”

“Don’t worry Gilly, it was indeed a grand finale,” Francis smirked.

“Damn straight.” Gilbert uncapped and took a swig from what appeared to be a small flask in his hand that had escaped Ludwig’s notice.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Spiced rum.”

“Can I have some?”

Gilbert laughed in surprise. “Sure! Hell, I thought you were going to yell at me for having it.”

He handed it over and Ludwig took a large drink, coughing slightly as it burned his throat.

“Woah, slow down there, I don’t have that much left.”

Ludwig coughed a bit more and handed it back wordlessly. All he wanted was to slow down his overactive imagination and let go of all these confusing, embarrassing thoughts about Francis, his brother, and this whole crazy dance party of drag queens, butch girls, and everything in between.

“Sooo, how do you like the party?” Gilbert grinned.

He shrugged. “It’s pretty good I guess.”

Gilbert rolled his eyes. “Wow. Well, I guess I should take that as a compliment from you. Anyway, glad you came.”

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but still. So, you did see the show earlier though?”

“Uh, yeah, I did.” Try to sound nonchalant. No eye contact.

Gilbert laughed. Was that a tone of nervousness in his voice? “Um, heh, yeah, sorry I didn’t warn you, but, you know. Didn’t want the secret getting out!” He clapped his brother on the back.

“Oh, um, right.”

Suddenly Gilbert leaned in close to his head. Ludwig blinked in surprise but Gilbert pulled him close. He said something Ludwig didn’t catch.

“What?”

Gilbert beckoned for him to lean closer, so he turned his ear to him and tried to focus on the words, which was rather difficult when his brother’s hot breath hit his ear, sending pleasurable shivers down his spine and straight to his gut.

“Do you mind keeping Francis distracted just a bit?”

Mm, the closeness of their faces was so nice; he could actually feel Gilbert’s warmth, smell the mix of sweat and cologne coming off his shining neck—wait, what was he saying?

“Fr—oh, oh, sure, yeah, yeah.”

Gilbert smiled and punched his shoulder, and, to Ludwig’s disappointment, drew back. “Thanks bro, I owe you one!” He turned and disappeared into the crowd. Probably to find Matthew.

“What was that about?” asked Francis when Ludwig turned back.

“Oh, nothing.” He waved it off, and rather convincingly too, he thought. Francis dropped it, thankfully.

Antonio and Feliciano were dancing next to them, but they weren’t nearly as close together as he and Francis were getting. But it was becoming harder and harder to accurately gauge what exactly that distance was; everything was starting to go fuzzy.

He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. “How are you feeling, my friend?”

Francis’s grinning face swam into view.

“Mm. ’M good.”

“That’s good to hear.” He rubbed his shoulder a bit, then dropped his hand and went on dancing, still with those frustrating, evanescent touches.

Was Ludwig being too compliant? Was letting this happen giving Francis the wrong idea? Ludwig wasn’t about to hook up or make out with him; wouldn’t his attentions be better spent on someone else?

Shit, his overactive mind was at it again, even under the influence. _Just go with the flow, just go with the flow… _But that had never been easy for him.__

__“Ludwig, are you planning on going to an after-party?” Francis asked innocently._ _

__“There’s an after-party?”_ _

__“Oh, I’m sure there are lots, but I was going to say you should come with us and your brother to our friend Tim’s. We were all going to hang out there, nothing big, you know.”_ _

__“Oh, uh, sure, thanks, you sure that’s okay?” He felt like he had to chew on the words to get them out._ _

__“But of course! Any friend of mine is welcome at my friend Tim’s, and besides, your Gilbert’s brother!”_ _

__Ludwig smiled vaguely. Hm, so he was a friend of Francis’? That was cool, he guessed. Hadn’t he wanted that? So that Gilbert would see he could make friends, that he wasn’t totally uncool? But, he didn’t even really know Francis…_ _

__He felt a tugging at his hand. It was Feliciano._ _

__“Hey Luddy, wanna go find Herakles and Kiku?”_ _

__“Sur—ah, wait, I—I think I’ll just stay here.” He had to uphold his promise to his brother._ _

__Feliciano looked a little surprised. He was still holding onto Ludwig’s hand. “Oh, um… you sure you don’t want to come? I just thought we should see what they’re up to, you know? Maybe they have plans for afterwards.”_ _

__“Oh, I’m going with Francis and Gilbert and some people to a friend of theirs’.”_ _

__“Oh… um, well, yeah, that’s fine… Okay, well, if you’re sure…”_ _

__Ludwig couldn’t understand why Feliciano seemed so reluctant to leave._ _

__“Yeah. It’s okay, you go on,” he said, maybe too loudly._ _

__“Right. Okay, I’ll let you know if we make some plans! Just in case…”_ _

__“Okay.”_ _

__Feliciano let go of his hand and left._ _

__“Hm,” intoned Francis. “I think your cute little friend wanted you to go with him.”_ _

__“My—huh?”_ _

__“But I’m just as glad you didn’t…” He moved a little closer to Ludwig, facing him now._ _

__“Uh, I, I…” What was a good excuse for staying? He could feel the heat rising up his neck and face, the aching pressure in his throat and head. Francis’ face was really close now, too close._ _

__Ludwig stepped back, his head swimming. He wished he had something to lean against._ _

__Suddenly he stopped moving. The room was spinning around him. He focused on just keeping his feet planted on the floor._ _

__“You alright?” Antonio asked._ _

__Ludwig widened his eyes as much as possible and blinked, trying to clear his head. He nodded, tentatively._ _

__“Maybe you’d like to sit down?” Francis suggested._ _

__“No, I think—”_ _

__“Hey, Luddy!”_ _

__Gilbert was back. Relief washed over him._ _

__“Come with me, I got something to show you!”_ _

__“Okay…” He let his brother take his hand and lead him away from the Frenchman and Spaniard, grateful to hold onto something._ _

__“Hey, Gil—what happened to Matt?”_ _

__“What do you mean?”_ _

__“Didn’t—didn’t you go off to dance with him?”_ _

__“Oh, yeah, well, I did! We danced, but then he had to go talk to his bro so I thought I’d come talk to mine!”_ _

__“Oh… Who’s his brother?”_ _

__“Alfred! Remember, the guy whose apartment we went to?”_ _

__“Oh, oh right, really loud guy…”_ _

__“That’s him!”_ _

__“Weird… They’re brothers?”_ _

__“Kesese, well, we’re not exactly doppelgangers either.”_ _

__“Oh… true.”_ _

__“Hey, stop leaning on me so much, Lud. How much did you have to drink?”_ _

__“Not—not that much…”_ _

__“Well, I hope not, I got a treat for ya!”_ _

__They had arrived back at the refreshment table._ _

__“That is, if you want… Wanna try a pot brownie?”_ _

__“H-huh? Uh, I dunno about that…”_ _

__Gilbert shrugged. “Well, it’s up to you, but I’m definitely taking one!”_ _

__He rummaged around under the table just as Feliciano had and came up with a plate of brownies. He took half of one and stuffed it into his mouth. He held out the plate._ _

__“Y’sure y’don’ wanna try? Thur fun! Jus’ take half though—” he swallowed—“they’re strong! But they take a while to kick in.”_ _

__Ludwig looked down at the plate. “No—wait, are those all pot brownies?”_ _

__“Yeah! Francis, Antonio and I got a good price from Tim for the whole batch! It’s our secret stash.”_ _

__“They look like the ones Antonio offered me…”_ _

__Gilbert’s face went blank in surprise. “Uh… Did you… eat one?”_ _

__“Yeah…” Ludwig’s head lolled onto his shoulder. It felt so heavy…_ _

__“Oh, shit… Antonio…” Gilbert groaned. “Okay, why don’t we just go sit down over there?”_ _

__“Okay…”_ _

__As soon as he sat on the bench he let his head fall back against the wall. He just wanted to sink into it…_ _

__“How ya feelin’?”_ _

__“I feel…” He giggled. “I feel—” Another giggle. “Heh, heehee, great! Hahaha!”_ _

__He sank into Gilbert’s side, resting his head on his shoulder. “Haha—Gilbert, why am I laughing? Hahahaha o my God, I don’t know! HAHA!”_ _

__“Okay, Lud, okay…” Gilbert wrapped his arm around his brother’s shoulders._ _

__“No, really, I—heehee, I feel great! Haha!”_ _

__“Yeah, I’m sure you do,” Gilbert said wryly._ _

__“Haha, hey, Gil—ha, I—hahaha, I really liked your dance!”_ _

__“What?” He gave Ludwig a bewildered look._ _

__“I don’t know why that’s so funny! But it is! Hahaha!”_ _

__“Umm… thank you?”_ _

__“Heh, yeah, you—heehee, you were really good! It was really great…”_ _

__“Uh, okay…” Gilbert was a little weirded out. He had been sure his brother would be mortified at seeing him like that, and was even a little embarrassed himself to act that way in front of his little brother—but then, he supposed Ludwig had seen worse, even from him._ _

__Gilbert sighed. Ludwig was just high, and drunk. He rubbed his back some and let him run the course of his giggle fit on his shoulder._ _

__His laughs became more sporadic, and Gilbert asked, “Hey, Lud, so, think you can function alright?”_ _

__“Of course! I told you, I feel fine!”_ _

__“Right… I’ll take you home if you want, though—”_ _

__“What? No! Gilbert, I’m fine! And I’m high! I don’t wanna waste it!”_ _

__Gilbert was amused despite himself. “Kesese, okay, fair enough, long as you can walk alright.”_ _

__“Yeah! But… I kinda just want to sit here…”_ _

__“That’s okay.”_ _

__“Oh, but—what about Matt? I’m sorry, don’t you wanna go dance with him?”_ _

__“Naw, it’s fine. I invited him over to Tim’s afterwards anyway.”_ _

__“Oh! I’m coming to Tim’s too! Francis invited me!”_ _

__“Oh, well, of course you’re welcome, but we’ll probably just be smoking.”_ _

__“That’s okay, I wanna come!”_ _

__“Long as you feel up for it…”_ _

__“Definitely!”_ _

__Ludwig enjoyed just looking at the room and the lights and the people moving around him for a bit. “Woah…” he breathed._ _

__“Kesese, classic high line!”_ _

__They both burst out laughing._ _

__“Haha, right? Haha, are you feeling it yet?”_ _

__“Mm, not quite, but I’m a little drunk anyway.”_ _

__“Wow, I couldn’t even tell! Haha!”_ _

__“Well I’m just that awesome, duh!”_ _

__They laughed again._ _

__“Hey Lud… So, tell me about that cute roommate of yours. Is he coming too?”_ _

__“Wait, heh, why is everyone calling Feli cute?”_ _

__“Well he is!”_ _

__“Hehe, you’re crazy! Anyway, no, he went to find Herakles and Kiku.”_ _

__“Hm. Too bad.”_ _

__“But I thought you like Matt!”_ _

__“Well, yeah, but a little eye-candy never hurts.”_ _

__Ludwig laughed at that. So weird, thinking of Feliciano as eye-candy._ _

__“Not like he’s a model!”_ _

__“No, but… he’s got a cute face.”_ _

__“Hehe, you’re so weird…”_ _

__“Hmph. Well, I say… you’re the weird one!” He shoved his face in front of Ludwig’s to surprise him._ _

__“AH! Oh my God, Gil… that was so scary!”_ _

__“Kesesese!” Gilbert rocked back and forth with his laughter._ _

__Ludwig started laughing too. “Hahaha, that’s scared me! Haha, your face…”_ _

__“Your face! Oh my God Lud!” He pulled Ludwig to him in a tight hug._ _

__Ludwig laughed, then realized he was pressed to his brother’s bare chest. Even high, the fortuitousness of this circumstance did not escape him._ _

__“Mm…” He let his head fall into the crook of his brother’s neck, breathing in that scent that was so… Gilbert._ _

__“You smell good…”_ _

__“What?! Kesese, wow, you really are high!” Gilbert laughed, drawing out of the hug._ _

__“Hmm…” Ludwig settled back down on his brother’s shoulder._ _

__Gilbert looked down at him with a fondly amused smile. He rubbed his back some more. “So, glad you came?”_ _

__“Definitely!”_ _

__“Kesese, good.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Part: Two-thirds of the BTT get up to no good.


	9. Chapter 6, Part 3

By the time Ludwig, Gilbert, Matthew, Francis, and Antonio reached Tim’s house, Ludwig was barely beginning to come down from his high.

Gilbert was hitting his peak.

He was walking with his arm slung around Matt’s shoulders, laughing at almost everything.

Francis and Antonio seemed to have partaken of the pot brownies as well, because they were laughing too. Or maybe that was just them; it was hard to tell.

Of course, whoever all was high was not as high as Ludwig had been after eating a whole brownie. He wasn’t sure how much it should bother him that Antonio had offered it to him without telling him what it contained, and that Francis had known too. He shrugged it off, though, and supposed they just wanted him to have a good time.

Gilbert’s innocent little brother.

They walked into the house without knocking—the door was unlocked—and went straight to an upstairs den, where Ludwig met Tim. He seemed to be a silent type, sitting on his couch with a pipe tucked between his lips, with piercing green eyes that didn’t miss a thing. Ludwig had the unsettling feeling that he was angry about something, but maybe that was just… his face? Or the sinister scar above his eye… Suddenly it made a lot of sense that this guy was a drug dealer.

They shrugged off their coats and collapsed onto the spacious corner couch. Ludwig ended up in the middle, between Gilbert and Francis, and immediately sank thankfully into the plush cushions. It was so nice to just let his body go.

Tim offered them all beers, and Ludwig gladly accepted; he didn’t want to lose his buzz at this point.

He sat back and sipped carelessly from his bottle, perfectly content to just watch the others as they conversed, put on some music, and prepared a couple of pipes.

The pipes made their ways down the line, except Tim’s, which was a slightly different shape and seemed to be his personal favorite, as it never left his hand.

When Francis handed Ludwig one of the small instruments, however, he didn’t know what to do with it. Francis leaned in close to show him how to operate it properly and inhale.

“Nice deep breath now,” Francis instructed as Ludwig brought the mouthpiece to his lips. “And then hold it, hold it… There you go.”

Ludwig coughed out a lungful of smoke that burned his throat.

“Kesese, you okay there Luddy?” Gilbert patted him on the back.

“Yeah…” He felt a tiny bit dizzy.

Gilbert turned back to his conversation with Matt while Ludwig took another swig of beer, thinking maybe it would soothe his throat.

“You know, Ludwig,” said Francis, sinking into the couch close to his shoulder, “you should feel quite privileged to smoke from Tim’s stash: he’s a real Dutchman!”

Ludwig nodded. Francis handed the pipe back to him and he took another throat-searing hit. His eyes were watering, but he wanted to feel the effects, he wanted to just let himself float, and he wasn’t quite there yet.

“You should go to Amsterdam some day, if you get the chance,” Francis added.

“Yes,” piped Antonio, “Francis and I went there on spring break once! The red light district was really something, heehee.”

“Oh…” Ludwig nodded again. “Uh, yeah, that’d be cool…”

The pipe was handed to him again. _Already?_ he thought vaguely, but didn’t protest as he inhaled deeply and was finally able to force himself not to cough.

“Go on, take another hit, there’s plenty!” encouraged Francis.

“O-okay…” He did, and then, frustrated that he still didn’t feel that different, took yet another.

Somewhere between handing the pipe over to Antonio and settling back against the couch it hit him.

He couldn’t see; had he closed his eyes? He was spinning, and where was the couch? He slumped over, unaware of up or down, and met Gilbert’s side.

“Woah, hey bro! Kesese, how ya doin’?”

Ludwig giggled. Then he laughed. And didn’t stop.

A part of him wondered what on earth was so goddamn _funny_ , but whatever it was, it just was! He laughed and laughed, eyes heavy, arms heavy, head heavy and sliding from Gilbert’s shoulder to his lap.

Snapshot of the coffee table. Black. Snapshot of a perfect, white leg. Black. His arms flopped up to anchor himself to that smooth, soft thigh that felt so nice against his face. Being close to his brother was such a comfort…

“Hahahaha Gilbert! Hahaha! You’re—you’re—haha, you’re my brother! _Brother!_ Haha that’s so _weird_ …” He kept laughing into Gilbert’s leg.

He felt a pleasant weight on his back, rubbing circles. So good… Any words, though, were reduced to incoherent muffled background noise.

“Brother… heehee, _brother_! HAHAHA!” Oh my God, why was that word so _funny_?

He could see Gilbert’s calf, palest pale, starkly outlined against an indistinguishable background. His hand moved out to trace it. Like marble… How was his brother’s body so perfect? So beautiful? But even that was funny.

“You’re so pretty…” he murmured, but his words were trapped against Gilbert’s skin and no one heard. He giggled some more, nuzzling into the leg that was the anchor of his existence at the moment.

Then, so much warmth around him. Human warmth and stickiness. Gilbert was hugging him. Ludwig smiled and pressed into his chest. “Gilbert!!! Hahaha, you’re such a good brother…”

“Kesese, so are you!”

“Mmm, I love you…”

“Awwww, I love you too Luddyyy! Kesesese, you’re so nice when you’re high! Isn’t my brother the cutest? Look at this!”

Ludwig stayed happily wrapped in Gilbert’s arms—so warm, hot, softness and firmness—until he felt something pulling at him. He reluctantly let himself be removed from the embrace.

“Up you go, Ludwig,” said Francis, who was tugging on his arm.

“What?” The room was still a series of pictures around him, dissociated from his body. “I can’t walk!” he complained.

“Yes you can.”

Ludwig slipped off the couch and was only kept from falling by Francis’ arms.

“Come on, you have to use your legs.”

Oh right… He tried commanding them to move, and it worked. He stood unsteadily, supported by Francis on one side and Antonio on the other.

“Okay guys, get him home safe!” Gilbert admonished from the couch as he stretched an arm around Matt’s shoulders.

“Don’t worry Gilly, we’ll take good care of him!” Antonio said cheerily.

The high Francis and Antonio stumbled with the higher still Ludwig into the hallway. Ludwig somehow managed to make his feet comply, but he had a hard time processing movement as they made their way down the hall.

Past the top of the stairwell he suddenly thought to ask, “Where are we going?”

“Shh shh, not far,” Francis comforted.

Ludwig saw a door in front of him. And then, he was inside a room leaning against a wall, or maybe a bookcase.

He spotted a bed across the room. Oh, that would be so nice, to just lie down…

He made to step towards it and nearly keeled over. Antonio caught him.

“Hehehe, wait a moment!”

Then Francis was there, too, and their faces were all Ludwig could see. Francis slipped an arm around him to help hold him up.

Ludwig giggled. “I’m so tired though! Haha, I wanna lie down…” He fell forward against their bodies.

“In good time, in good time,” said Francis, smiling hazily at the boy pressed to his chest. “You know Ludwig, I had a lot of fun with you tonight.”

“Mmm… oh, what?”

“I said tonight was really fun with you. I enjoyed getting to dance with you earlier… Wasn’t that fun Antonio?”

“Yeah, it was great!”

“That’s right, so, I was thinking we could pick up where we left off.”

“Hahaha, what are you talking about?” Ludwig grinned into Francis’ face, noses almost touching.

“Oh come on, you know what I’m talking about Ludwig. You’re a very attractive man you know.” His hands were rubbing circles on Ludwig’s bare sides. “And you _were_ flirting with me.”

“I—huh?” Ludwig laughed. “What do you—I don’t flirt with _guys_ , haha!”

“Mmm, is that so?”

“Sure looked like it!” Antonio added.

“Hahaha, you guys are funny…” _Him?_ Flirting with _guys?_ The thought made him laugh.

“Haven’t you ever kissed a man before, Ludwig?”

“What—no! Of course not! That’s ridiculous…”

“Wouldn’t you like to try?” Francis breathed hotly in his ear.

“Uh—” But something against Ludwig’s mouth prevented him from answering, or even breathing. Hot, wet, wet, soft. Strange tasting.

Francis pulled away from the kiss to look at Ludwig, who was utterly confused as to what had just happened.

“You—you—you _kissed_ me!” Ludwig broke into laughter again and wrinkled his nose. “Why’d you do that?”

“I couldn’t help myself, _mon chéri_.” He leaned in to capture Ludwig’s lips again.

Ludwig could feel the scratch of Francis’ stubble around his mouth and the hardness of his teeth, pushing forward forcefully, but couldn’t react.

Finally Francis broke the kiss. “Why don’t you kiss back?”

“But, I don’t kiss guys…”

“You’re kissing one now.”

Again, that possessive mouth on his, probing tongue. Ludwig felt it all through a haze. It was just so _strange, strange_ , there was a guy kissing him!

Ludwig’s head lolled to the side, laughing. “What are you doing? This is weird…”

“Hm, I want to try him!” said Antonio, leaning in to claim Ludwig’s mouth as well.

Ludwig’s tongue automatically responded to Antonio’s as it slid around, bodily instincts taking over in the absence of thought. But eventually, he pulled away.

“Wait, wait a second, what—” Another mouth on his, he didn’t know whose. He grunted.

It was overwhelming. Hot mouths and hands everywhere, on his neck and shoulders as well as his face. Ludwig had to pant for breath whenever a mouth left his for even a moment.

“Hey, what—” he tried asking again, only to be smothered once more. He remained limp as a rag doll, unable to process what his reaction ought to be. His eyes didn’t want to stay open, but even if they had the pictures would have been partial; skin, hair, eyes, fluorescent ceiling light.

Finally he felt himself being moved, and he was horizontal on the bed, and it was soft, so soft here, he just wanted to melt into the mattress and sleep…

Ludwig gasped sharply. He could feel something hot and slick _down there_. He tried to lift his head to see but it was so heavy that it took several tries. Finally glancing down, he could see Francis’ blond head over his crotch, and—where had his boxers gone? He didn’t remember taking them off.

“H-hey! What… what are you doing?” Why was this happening? He hadn’t asked Francis to do this for him—but oh, that sweet sensation…

Ludwig’s breath came in huffs as he clutched the bed sheets beneath him. “I… I…” but his mind wasn’t working properly, and even less so now, with the added sensations.

Another flip of positions. The edge of the bed. Black. The ceiling. Black. A man’s genitals, shoved in front of his face.

Ludwig flinched automatically. What was going on?

“Come on.” Francis guided his head towards his cock.

“Hey, n-no—!” Suddenly, his mouth was full, so very uncomfortably full of hard-soft-smooth flesh. He gagged and jerked back.

He couldn’t see. All he wanted was to breathe, to sleep—

“Come on now, Ludwig, I did it for you, won’t you do it for me? It’s not so bad, really.” Francis pulled Ludwig’s mouth back over his cock and guided him up and down the shaft repeatedly as Ludwig tried not to choke. He pulled back coughing.

“St-stop it… I don’t, I don’t do that…”

“You sure?” asked Antonio, pulling Ludwig towards his crotch. He pressed his cock to his lips but Ludwig turned away.

“Uhn, no—where’s Gilbert?”

“Gilbert’s busy. You don’t want to disturb him, do you? I don’t think he’d appreciate that,” purred Francis.

Ludwig squeezed his eyes shut. Things weren’t funny anymore. “Gilbert…”

There was something blunt pressing into his mouth again, and he felt his hair being pulled as the thick organ slid in and out of his mouth. When it withdrew he coughed and spluttered. “S-stop it, I wanna go home…”

“Shush, Ludwig, everything’s fine, everything’s fine, just calm down…” Francis’ hands were running through his hair. “You’ll like it, just relax…”

“Huh?”

Then a new sensation hit him. Something hot and wriggling, pressing against his backside.

“Ah! What?” He gripped the covers as tightly as possible, feeling like they were the only sure thing in this confusing, shifting world.

Antonio’s tongue laved at his entrance as Francis held his head in place. “Trust me, it’ll feel good; and anyway, you have to finish what you started! Come on, look how hard you’ve made me,” Francis said as he pushed his member past reluctant lips once more.

Was it really his fault? Had he done this? Was it only fair that he let Francis and Antonio do what they like? His throat ached with each thrust, but oh, that tongue, squirming in his hole—and then it was gone.

Suddenly Ludwig felt something else press against his backside, blunter, larger. Instinct clenched his gut and he bucked away, but a firm grasp on his hips and head prevented too much movement, not to mention how damn heavy his limbs still felt, and his eyes practically couldn’t stay open.

A slow press again, harder this time, and the first stab of true pain.

“AH! No! Don’t—Gilbert!” Where was his brother? “Gil—!” He was silenced with Francis’ cock shoving back into his mouth, and it was just too too full, too much—

Another press, another jolt of pain.

“MMNNF!” He tried to yell, tried to squirm away, but he couldn’t, he was just so so tired, everything was so heavy, so confused, and where were his hands, and _where was Gilbert?_

“Hm, it keeps on slipping...” Antonio’s voice.

Ludwig couldn’t breathe. His throat hurt, his eyes were watering, and blackness seemed to be taking up more and more of his vision. But still that sharp pain like he was being stretched open persisted.

“Mmm, ooh yes, that’s so nice Lud,” groaned Francis. “Don’t worry, soon it will feel good for you too…”

But all he wanted was for it to go away. For everything to go away, and for Gilbert to be there, and to be back in his arms and _ow ow ow no it hurts…_

More blackness, more heaviness, more dizziness, more pain.

Then finally, nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: The aftermath, and lots more of Luddy's thoughts... and oh what interesting thoughts they are.


	10. Chapter 7

He was cold. And uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable.

Ludwig shivered and reached around for a cover to pull over him, but didn't find one.

He cracked open an eye. The light was on. How strange.

He opened the other eye. Apparently he was on the floor. No wonder he felt so stiff.

But this room… where was he?

Ludwig let his eyes wander around his unfamiliar surroundings before suddenly realizing what his senses were telling him. He glanced down to check. Sure enough, he was naked.

Ludwig sat bolt upright, instinctively trying to cover himself even though there was no one around to see. What had he been wearing last night? Oh right, his boxers… And what had happened to them? When had he taken them off…

…Oh.

_Oh._

_My God._

Ludwig stared down at his bare flesh. Suddenly he felt sick.

He staggered to his feet, looking around desperately for something to cover himself with.

No sign of his boxers. He grabbed a quilt from the bed (covers in a tangle, try not to look) and wrapped it tightly around his shoulders, then stood still, hugging himself, unsure of what to do next.

There was a mirror on the back of the door. He found himself walking towards it.

His reflection looked like… him. It was Ludwig looking back. That couldn't be real. How could it be real when he looked so normal? Or maybe the Ludwig standing in the room wasn't real. He felt so… empty. Blank.

He blinked several times, just watching the other Ludwig blink. Then something caught his eye.

He tilted his head. There, on his chin, and on his neck, too. Ludwig reached up to touch the crusty, clear substance.

Hot sickness whooshed through his gut again. Only one thought occupied his mind: he had to get it off. _He had to get clean._

He opened the door and peered into the hallway, clutching the quilt to his chest. He still felt so, exposed.

No sign of anyone. Who lived here, anyway?

Ludwig tiptoed down the hall, hoping he wouldn't have to go opening doors to find a bathroom. God, this hallway didn't even look remotely familiar.

Suddenly he heard running water turning on, then off, through the door directly on his right. He froze, blood pounding in his ears. Before he could move a muscle, the door opened.

A girl wrapped in a towel looked up at him with big green eyes and screamed. Ludwig jumped and gave a yell of surprise before the girl retreated back into the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

Ludwig stared at the door in shock.

Down the hall Tim poked his head out of a doorway. His cool gaze swept over Ludwig quickly, making him blush. He must look so ridiculous like this… _How embarrassing._

"What's going on?" asked Tim flatly.

"Uh, I… I-I'm sorry, I, um, I-I just…"

Tim walked down the hall to the bathroom door and Ludwig shrank back, tilting his head down and hoping the dried cum on his face wasn't too obvious.

Tim knocked on the door. "Bella, it's alright, you can come out."

A pause, then the door opened and the girl looked out at Ludwig warily. Her blonde hair was still wet from a shower.

"This is Ludwig. He's Gilbert's little brother. Ludwig, my sister, Bella."

"Hello," said Ludwig quietly, not meeting their eyes.

"Oh, hi, um… sorry, about, ah, that…" Bella blushed and quickly slipped away to disappear behind another door.

Ludwig stood awkwardly in the hall. He didn't look at Tim, but he knew Tim was looking at him.

"I'll get you some clothes," he said suddenly and went back to the room he had come from.

"Uh—thanks…" Ludwig said uncertainly, before realizing he ought to use the free bathroom to clean up.

He went inside and closed the door, wrapping the blanket around his waist like a towel. He didn't want to be naked just now.

He started scrubbing at his face with soap and warm water without looking in the mirror. He didn't want to see it. It was filthy. _He_ was filthy.

But no matter how much lather he worked up, he couldn't seem to get clean of the feeling of hands, moist hot hands rubbing, pressing, taking, and those obscenely wet mouths leaving their trails across his skin, marking him.

He wanted to scrub away a whole layer of his skin.

He rinsed his mouth out too, wishing he had Listerine instead of water. He wondered briefly how much sperm might still be in his mouth, and if he had swallowed any. Then he felt like he was going to vomit.

A knock on the door. Ludwig fought down the lump in his throat. "Y-yeah."

Tim opened the door and handed a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt through. "These should fit okay. And I think these are yours." He placed Ludwig's light blue boxers on top of the pile.

Ludwig blushed as he took the clothes. He wanted to ask where he'd found the boxers, but didn't. He still couldn't look at Tim.

"Your coat's in the den." Tim left and closed the door.

So matter-of-fact. Did he know? Could he tell?

Ludwig dressed quickly.

…

Ludwig sat in his desk chair staring at Feliciano, still asleep in bed and snoring loudly.

There was a knock on the suite door. Numbly, he rose and went to answer it.

"Luddyyy!" A blur of white flung itself at him. "Guess who slept down the hall last night!" Gilbert drew back to beam at him.

"Uh… you?"

"You know it!" Gilbert started doing a triumphant dance. "Do a little boogie, huh, uh, oo yeah!"

"…Why?"

He stopped his dance. "Oh come on Lud… Your RA! Hellooo, earth to Lud! I stayed over at Matt's! I mean, we didn't—well, you know, nothing—or, not much happened," he backtracked, looking embarrassedly at his shoes. "But, he did say he wants to see me again, so that's cool and all…" It looked like he was trying his hardest not to grin. He was positively glowing.

"That's… great, Gilbert."

"I know!" he practically shouted. "Anyway, hope I didn't wake you up, thought I'd just drop by and make sure you didn't have a weed hangover or anything, those can be nasty. But, yeah, I gotta go, promised I'd meet up with Francis and Antonio, so, see ya later?"

"Meet up… oh."

Gilbert blinked, then frowned. "Are you okay Lud?"

No.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Gilbert smirked. "Still feeling the buzz? Kesese, that happens to me a lot."

"Oh, yeah I guess."

"Hm, get some food in ya." He gave Ludwig a one-armed hug and thumped his back. "Talk to you later. Bye-bye, bro!"

"…Bye…"

…

_It was a mistake. It was all just a mistake._

_He shouldn't have been so… accepting, of Francis' attentions. He shouldn't have danced so close to him. He shouldn't have kept talking to them. He gave them the wrong impression. He shouldn't have smoked so much. He shouldn't have let them kiss him._

_If he had really tried, he could have gotten away… couldn't he? But he didn't, and they thought… Why did he let them? Was he… gay? That doesn't happen to straight guys. Was he a virgin still? What did that count as? How far did it even go? He couldn't remember…_

_This had to have happened for a reason. He messed up. People do stupid things when they're high, and drunk. Just a stupid mistake, an easy-to-make mistake. That's all._

_Just forget about it._

…

Ludwig threw himself into his schoolwork. Over the next few days he got ahead on his reading. He drafted a paper that wasn't due for two weeks. He spent all his spare time in the library and came back to his room to sleep. He barely spoke to Feliciano, and even less to Gilbert.

Whenever he found his mind wandering back to the night at Tim's, he pushed the thought away almost violently and plunged back into whatever task was at hand. It would work for a while, and then his mind would start to drift, and he repeated the cycle.

Sometimes, after hours of sitting at the same table in the library, he couldn't concentrate on his work anymore. In order to keep his brain occupied, his thoughts would turn towards the manga volumes in his desk drawer in his room. He hadn't touched them in nearly a week, nor had he looked at anything related on his computer. But he itched to flip them open again.

Going onto one of those websites while in the library was out of the question, but his mind could go wherever it liked. Ludwig thought about the brothers, about the stories he had read, even about stories he had fantasized on his own.

And then he would think about Gilbert. Smirking under that police cap. In those tall leather boots. With that crop. The moment of truth when he removed his mask. Gilbert, hugging him and rubbing his back. Him clinging to Gilbert's leg. _"You're such a good brother… I love you…"_ Calling for Gilbert as he clawed at sheets and that pain and suffocating—

_No. Don't think about that._

And then he would realize he'd been staring at the same page of Montaigne's _Essays_ for over forty minutes.

And he'd go through the cycle again.

…

_Bzz. Bzz._

Ludwig glance surreptitiously around the silent reading room, then looked at his phone. A text from Gilbert.

_Yo bro haven't seen u in an age! What's up?_

An age? He sighed. Gilbert was prone to exaggeration.

_Been busy. Srry._

Only a few seconds later his phone went off again.

_Wanna hang out tonight? U can come over to my place_

Ludwig paused. He didn't really feel like doing anything, in all honesty. His phone buzzed again.

_Pleeeez i miss u :P_

He felt a slight flutter, a pleasant warmth in his stomach at that. He knew it was just Gilbert's way, being overly sentimental and a little immature and covering it all up with an ironic aside—nothing special. But it was hard to say no to.

_Sure what time?_

…

Professor Kirkland was speaking, but Ludwig was having a hard time listening. His thoughts drifted from one thing to another, always skirting around that nagging, tugging thing at the back of his mind. He could almost feel it there, a dark weight like a little lump of coal lodged in the back of his skull that he refused to acknowledge despite the constant dull ache. It was almost subtle enough for him to forget it was even there… but not quite.

And he had agreed to go to Gilbert's tonight. There was almost nothing he could think of that would be more inviting than just sitting with Gilbert, hugging Gilbert. But he didn't want to talk to him. And if he saw him, he would have to talk to him.

Kirkland looked up from his book. "So after reading that passage, what can you say about Montaigne's concept of 'taste'? How does he use the word here? Yes, Mathias?"

"Well, he talks a lot about our 'corrupted tastes,' right? So it seems like taste to him is something constructed, or artificial, just completely based on your cultural assumptions that have been handed down to you. However society has shaped your tastes, that has nothing to do with whether they're actually right or not, right?"

Kirkland nodded slowly, considering. "Mm-hm, yes… 'Cultural assumptions' are certainly important here. They determine what we think of as right or wrong, don't they? But what if our tastes are corrupted? How can we tell if our preferences are actually deviations, or 'bastardizations,' as he puts it, of the natural order? Is there even a natural order, and if so, how can we know what it is? Is everything just a matter of perspective?

"Now, that's all rather abstract, I know, so let's think of how it applies to the title of this particular essay: 'On Cannibals.' In this respect, the whole idea of 'taste' is perhaps a little more literal than you would think. Haha, that's right, I see some of you grimacing. But isn't that because our culture tells us that eating human flesh is wrong? That cultural assumption has ingrained in us repulsion at the idea of cannibalism; that is taste. It literally disgusts us, in the way my cooking tends to disgust my friends."

A slight chuckle ran through the class.

"But just because that is our reaction to the idea of eating Joe Shmoe from down the street, does that mean we can condemn it? It comes down to the question of universal morality. Are there any things which are simply true for humans everywhere, or is everything a matter of cultural perspective? Can you think of anything other than cannibalism that people simply reject outright, across the board?"

"Well, murder," a boy behind Ludwig suggested. "No one thinks that's right."

"Ah." Professor Kirkland nodded. "Okay, but murder is simply another name for killing, right? And actually there are very very few people who strictly adhere to a morality that does not allow killing. Think of wars. Think of self-defense. Society says that those are justified killings. So you see there are plenty of exceptions for that case. Anything else? …What about incest?"

Ludwig's ears pricked up. He was listening now.

Kirkland smirked a little. "Uh-huh. A lot of you are pulling faces again. That's because of _taste_ , again. It's that disgust we feel at the mere mention of it."

Disgust? But Ludwig hadn't felt disgust. He had felt… excitement.

He glanced around the room at the blank or slightly uncomfortable faces of his classmates. Mathias was frowning slightly.

That's right, though. That's how you were supposed to react. He wondered if anyone else was having other thoughts, though, if anyone was as fucked up as he was.

"But let's consider for a moment. A thought experiment, if you will. Now, if you think about sex with a family member, you are immediately revolted and reject the thought outright. But what if society were completely different. What if you were all brought up to accept sex with your family, your parents, your siblings, or even if it was expected? If you were supposed to marry your sister or your brother or a cousin? If that had been ingrained in you since birth… how would you feel if someone came along and just tried to tell you it was wrong, because their tastes had been cultivated differently? Because what other grounds does the person actually have to stand on?"

"Yeah but," Mathias spoke up, "that's not really legitimate when it comes to incest. I mean there are biological reasons not to do that, so it can't just be a cultural thing, right?"

"Okay, what about an incestuous couple that was sterile? What about a homosexual incestuous couple?"

Ludwig clutched his pen tighter and stared determinedly at his paper. He felt like electricity was buzzing across the surface of his skin.

Kirkland continued. "See, you wouldn't just say 'okay, fine, they can't have children, I guess they can have sex if they want to.' So it must be something else, that simple repulsion, that's making you think that way."

"But what about the Westermarck Effect? It's biologically proven that if you're raised with someone, you're not going to become attracted to them," Mathias persisted. "It's not natural, so it must be a universal taboo."

Ludwig looked at Mathias in confusion. He didn't know anything about these scientific terms, but if what he said was true… why could he think about his own brother kissing him, and _like_ it?

"Well, look," said Kirkland, "I don't want to get into a debate on incest; that's not really the issue here. But, if you're interested, you should take a look at Roman Egyptian society: case in point that not all societies consider incest taboo. Furthermore, what do you define as incest? There have been countless different definitions adopted by different peoples at different times, so—it's not as clear cut as you might think. As you might _like_ to think.

"Now I'm sorry to get so side-tracked. Let's couch this in Montaigne's terms once more. He's writing at a time when Europeans are coming into contact with peoples in the New World so utterly different from themselves that they shake to the very core their entire way of thinking about humanity. How can there be any universal philosophy or morality that can take both the courtiers of France and the cannibals of the Amazon Rainforest into account?"

But Ludwig wasn't listening again. _If you think about sex with a family member…_

He cringed inwardly. Said that way it seemed so glaringly obvious, so wrong. But, if he really thought about sex with a family member? With… Gilbert?

_No! No no no no STOP._

Ludwig ran a hand over his face and tried his best to keep his attention on the lecture for the rest of class.

He sighed in relief when the time finally came to pack up his bag and leave. He was already out the door when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He looked up.

His heart stopped.

Francis' smirking face was two inches from his own.

Ludwig felt chillingly cold and searingly hot all at once. He repressed a shiver, but the rush of blood in his ears made him think he was about to faint.

"Ludwig, did you think you would just pass me by?"

Ludwig's tongue felt much too thick and dry to articulate a response. He wished Francis would take his hand off his shoulder.

"Haven't seen you in a while," Francis continued. "Luckily I was just on my way to see Arth—Professor Kirkland. Did you just get out of class with him?"

Ludwig nodded dumbly.

"Oh good, then maybe we'll be seeing more of each other." He leaned in swiftly to press hot lips to Ludwig's ear. Ludwig flinched but was held in place by Francis' hand. "And if you ever want to finish what we started _properly—_ " he trailed a finger along Ludwig's hipbone for emphasis—"all you need to do is ask. It was so much fun." A pink tongue darted out from between his lips to give Ludwig's ear a quick lick.

Ludwig jerked away and stared at the floor, breathing hard.

Francis simply smirked and raised an eyebrow. "See you Luddy."

He turned and went into the classroom.

As soon as the door closed behind Francis, Ludwig bolted. He ran down the stairwell two steps at a time and barreled through the front doors. He had to get _out. Away._

Halfway back to his dorm his legs didn't want to move any more. He practically collapsed on the nearest bench, wrapping his arms around himself and taking great, rattling breaths.

He sat there for a few minutes, willing his mind to be blank apart from praying that no one he knew would pass by. Then, not wanting to try his luck too long, he set a purposeful pace back to his room.

…

Ludwig sat on his bed with his knees drawn up to his chest. Feliciano was out, and he couldn't decide if that was a good or a bad thing. He didn't really want anyone to see him right now and he certainly didn't feel like talking… and yet company would be so nice.

More specifically, Gilbert's company. But it was okay, he would see Gilbert later. In an hour he would go over to his house.

He hoped Gilbert would hug him.

He laid his head on his arms.

_Gilbert…_

He closed his eyes. He could almost feel his arms around him, if he pretended hard enough.

And then what if…

Ludwig felt like he was balancing on a precarious brink. He could feel a little tug, like there was a string tied around his sternum, egging him forward, but he could pull back if he wanted to. He knew what was on the other end of that string.

The decision, if it could even be called that, took less than half a second in reality. Ludwig was simply too tired, too morbidly curious to pull back, so he let himself be tugged forward without resistance.

_If you think about sex with a family member…_

_He was on the couch in the home he and Gilbert had grown up in. His brother was sitting next to him._

_Very matter-of-factly Gilbert turned to him and kissed him. On the lips. With tongue._

_Ludwig moved to straddle his brother. Hands roamed across backs, over thighs, up shirts. Massaged necks._

_Gilbert's mouth moved down to his jawbone, his neck, giving open mouthed kisses. His fingers kneaded into Ludwig's backside through his jeans. Ludwig pressed their groins together. He took off Gilbert's shirt to reveal that beautiful expanse of pale pale skin._

_He looked his brother right in those bright, red eyes and got off his lap, getting down on his knees between Gilbert's legs._

_Gilbert looked down at him, lips slightly parted, adoration in his half-lidded gaze as Ludwig unzipped his jeans and reached inside his boxers to take his erection firmly in his grasp. He drew out that perfect member and pumped it to its full length as Gilbert's hands roamed gently, gently over his face and through his hair._

_Then he took him in his mouth and it felt so full, surprisingly full and he wanted to gag but it was okay, it was okay because he wanted to see Gilbert's head loll to the side like that, with an almost pained expression on his face. And he sucked that soft, soft skin of that hard shaft with vigor, not caring how it felt awkward in his mouth because this was his brother, his beautiful beautiful brother who loved him and was moaning his name softly, needily._

_Ludwig got up and Gilbert removed his shirt for him, trailing his long fingers across his chest and over his sides, down to the hem of his jeans, and he removed them too and the boxers underneath. Ludwig stood naked before his brother, a little embarrassed, but Gilbert simply pulled him down to his lap again with a fond smirk._

_Gilbert put two of his fingers in his mouth, then reached behind Ludwig and starting massaging his entrance. Ludwig leaned forward against his brother's body, resting his cheek on his shoulder and letting him insert a finger into him. It burned a little but he didn't mind; it was Gilbert doing this. He swirled it around and Ludwig wanted more; a second finger was added and he scissored him for a while, kissing his neck and face._

_Finally Ludwig felt ready. Gilbert spat into his palm and rubbed it over his throbbing cock, and it really was so big Ludwig was quite nervous. It did hurt as he lowered himself onto it, but Gilbert was whispering encouragement in his ear and stroking his shaft and kissing his mouth and Ludwig didn't mind, hurting just a little for his brother. And Ludwig felt so full when he was completely seated, it was incomparable to anything else; so close, closer than close, to his brother._

_He bounced and Gilbert thrust, slowly at first but increasing in speed and desperation with each smack of flesh on flesh and Gilbert's arms were around him and he was sweating and panting and moaning because that spot inside was being hit and Gilbert was sliding in and out and in and out so easily, so quickly now, and he didn't want it to ever stop because it felt so sinfully good and he told Gilbert so and he went faster, faster, and Ludwig was practically screaming as Gilbert grunted in effort and pumped his cock and their bodies were pressed so tight he couldn't tell them apart and they were sliding, rubbing, tensing, and just one more hit so incredibly deep inside him—_

_He released all over Gilbert's and his torsos, drops of cum flying in every direction as he continued to bounce, to milk it out, and Gilbert groaned, his name falling from his lips, as he slammed into Ludwig one last time, whole body rigid as he coated his brother's insides in his seed. Ludwig could feel Gilbert's cock throbbing in his contracted passage and the hot semen gushing around it, and then Gilbert drew out and held Ludwig to his chest in a tight embrace._

Ludwig's phone rang.

He snapped out of his slack-jawed trance and searched around on his bed frantically, hoping it wasn't Gilbert. He finally found it and looked at the screen. His stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. He brought the phone to his ear.

"Hey, Dad."

"Ludwig, how are you doing? You haven't called for nearly a week!"

Ludwig swallowed. "Been busy," he mumbled.

"What's that?"

"I said I've been busy, sorry."

"Hm, schoolwork?"

_And smoking weed and having sex I didn't want with other boys I don't really know._

"Yeah, it's piling up."

"But you're staying on top of things."

"Yes, Dad."

"Good boy. And how's your brother doing?"

_My brother? Your other son, who I just imagined having sex with?_

"He's… good, I think. I uh, haven't talked to him much recently actually, but, I'm going to see him tonight, so, um… I think he's good though."

"Alright, well, tell him to give me a call, will you?"

"Sure."

"Whenever he doesn't call I think he's avoiding me, and then I assume the worst. You keep an eye on him, alright Ludwig?"

"O-okay. He's—he's not… I mean, you don't need to worry so much about him, Dad. Gilbert… Gilbert's really doing okay, honestly."

"Hm, well, I'll be the judge of that. Anyway, remember to call your old man every once in a while, won't you? It's… well, it's a little lone—ah, strange, with none of my boys in the house anymore."

Ludwig felt a pain in his chest. "I'm sorry Dad. I'll call you back soon."

"Alright. Well, keep up the good work."

"Thanks. Bye, Dad."

"Goodbye, Ludwig, talk to you soon."

Ludwig stared at the phone long after he had hung up. His head and throat hurt in an almost-crying sort of way, but his eyes were completely dry.

So. He had imagined having sex with Gilbert. His father's son.

_And he liked it._

It was… weird. Very weird, and an unfortunate thing to be thinking about right before a phone conversation with the man that had fathered them both.

But really, it didn't mean anything. It was just… a "thought experiment," as Professor Kirkland had put it.

Nothing really changed because of it. Ludwig would still go over to Gilbert's in just a few minutes and they would still be brothers, and hopefully Gilbert would hug him and not ask too many questions and it would just be… nice, to be with him.

Ludwig didn't really want to be in his room anymore, though, so he put his shoes back on and left, thinking it wouldn't matter if he was a few minutes early, and hoping, in the back of his mind where he didn't really acknowledge the thought, that he didn't see Francis or Antonio on his way over.

…

"So… what you wanna do?"

"I dunno."

"…Want some pizza? I was just gonna put some in the microwave."

"No thanks, not hungry."

"…'Mkay…"

Gilbert prepared his pizza in silence as Ludwig stared at the countertop. Then they went up to his room.

"Halo?"

"You know I suck at video games, Gilbert."

"Oh yeah… chess? You always beat me in chess."

"But you hate chess."

"True."

Gilbert ate in silence. Ludwig didn't watch him.

"So… what you been up to since Friday?"

"Uh…" He could feel pressure in his head. "Work."

"Mm. That blows."

"Well, it's school."

"Yeah."

"…How's Matt?"

Gilbert perked up at that. "Good, actually! We went on a… well, a date I guess, the other night. It was… ah, nice." He was blushing.

Ludwig finally looked at his brother. "That's great." _Even though I just imagined having sex with you. It's ridiculous, I know; you have a chance with a guy, a really nice guy, and you're happy and so I'm happy. Even though what I did is so, so messed up._

"Yeah. Thanks." Gilbert smiled. "You sure you don't want some?" He held up his pizza slice.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Gilbert smirked. "Oh, sorry, forgot, you don't like other people's saliva on your food."

Ludwig snorted. "I'm over that, Gilbert, that was just when I was little."

"Oh really now? Because I seem to distinctly remember you refusing to drink out of the same straw as me as recently as last summer."

Ludwig blushed.

A gleeful smile came over Gilbert's face. He set down his pizza and inched closer to where Ludwig was seated on the bed.

"Are you telling me now that you really don't mind big brother Gilly's spit so much? So if I go like this—" he licked his index finger and held it out close to Ludwig's face—"you're not gonna run away screaming like a little girl like you used to?"

Ludwig blushed even more and bit his lip. This had long been one of Gilbert's favorite methods of torment for his younger brother.

Gilbert feinted a poke at him and he flinched automatically, a smile curling his lips against his will. Another poke, another flinch, then another, until Gilbert was laughing as he circled his finger in the air in front of Ludwig's face, backing his brother into the corner of the bed as he giggled the high pitched laugh of faux terror.

"Stop it!" Ludwig laughed. "Gilbert—don't—gah!"

"Gotcha!" Gilbert yelled triumphantly as he stuck his wet finger into his brother's ear.

"Ew!" Ludwig tried to bat his brother off, who had him pinned to the bed.

"Kesese!" Gilbert stuck out his tongue and leaned down as if to lick Ludwig. This had particularly terrified Ludwig as a boy, and he couldn't help but squeal and turn away, trying to avoid the tongue.

But… a part of him really wanted Gilbert to lick him this time. He was just… curious, what his tongue would feel like. He'd never really paid attention to that before.

So, he stopped struggling, and looked defiantly up at his brother.

Gilbert looked down in surprise. "I'll really do it," he warned.

"I don't believe you."

"I'm really gonna do it Lud."

"Fine."

Gilbert was disarmed by this new attitude, but stuck his tongue out anyway with a very determined face and leaned down to give Ludwig's cheek a very deliberate lick.

Ludwig had to try not to gasp. Gilbert's tongue and breath were so hot on his skin…

Gilbert pulled back, grinning, but his grin faltered when he saw Ludwig's face.

Realizing perhaps his expression was not what it ought to be, Ludwig blushed and glared at his brother, then wiped off his cheek. "Gross." And then he lunged up and tackled him for good measure.

They tussled about on the bed for a few minutes, laughing and panting. Ludwig had to admit it felt nice to have an excuse to hold his brother so tightly, but really, he was just being ridiculous. Gilbert didn't see him in a sexual way and never would, and there was really nothing that arousing about wrestling with your brother on his bed.

He had almost managed to get Gilbert pinned when Gilbert's phone went off.

"Shit," Gilbert panted. "I gotta get that."

"Cheater," Ludwig commented as he got off his brother to let him answer the call.

Gilbert brought up his phone. "Hey Tim, 'sup?"

Ludwig blushed. He mumbled something about needing the bathroom and went into the adjoining room. He didn't come out until he heard Gilbert hang up.

When he stepped back into the room, Gilbert had an odd expression on his face. "Why didn't you tell me, Lud?"

_Oh, God. Tell him what?_

"Uh, what are you talking about?"

"You spent the night at Tim's, and… uh, I gather something went down?"

Ludwig just stared at him.

"Was it Bella? She's pretty hot."

"No," he said, but it came out as a whisper.

Gilbert frowned. "Is everything okay? Hey I thought Francis and Toni took you home anyway."

"No." Another whisper. He couldn't move, just stand stupidly in the middle of the floor.

Gilbert blinked. "Well why not? They told me they did."

_No, no, no, I can't—_

"Lud? What—what's the matter?

Ludwig shook his head an infinitesimal amount. He swallowed. "Nothing."

"Well, what happened?"

Ludwig wanted to melt into the floor. He couldn't, how could he—

"Ludwig," Gilbert said firmly, getting off the bed and walking to his brother. "Tell me what happened." His eyes, almost transparent at the moment, were serious, but concerned.

"I… I…"

"Did… anything bad happen?" Gilbert's voice was barely more than a whisper.

Ludwig swallowed again. _Oh God, oh God, hands, mouths, everywhere—_ He shivered, and nodded the tiniest nod. He couldn't lie to Gilbert.

Gilbert's face fell, but he kept himself together. He took a deep breath. "Tell me what happened, Lud."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Gilbert's reaction, and Ludwig tries something new...


	11. Chapter 8

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

The apartment door swung open. Antonio's face peered out. He beamed.

"Hey Gilly, what—"

"You. _Fucking. RAPIST!_ "

In two seconds Gilbert was through the door and had Antonio pinned to the wall of the entryway.

Antonio squealed in fear. "Gil, what—"

" _Shut up!_ WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO HIM?"

Hurried footsteps stumbled down the hall.

"Gilbert, what the hell is—" Francis started, but he was cut off when Gilbert's right fist connected solidly with his left cheek.

A girl at the end of the hall screamed in shock.

Gilbert's heart was pounding. An odd pressure was constricting his head. He felt detached from his body.

He was on top of Francis before he was aware of what he was doing.

The sickening sound of fists pounding into soft flesh was punctuated by Francis' strangled cries and Gilbert's incoherent screams of rage.

"YOU—FUCKING—BASTARD—KILL—YOU—"

He only stopped hitting when a pair of hands forcefully pulled him back, but his fists were still swinging.

Francis and Antonio were both struggling to subdue him now, but he kept grappling, clawing and flailing at every inch of their bodies he could reach, until an elbow connected with his face and slammed his head into the wall. Stunned, he dropped to the floor.

Pain blossomed from his nose as he felt the warmth of blood fill his nostrils and trickle down to his lips. He grimaced and gripped his face.

The other two backed away slowly, panting. Francis sported a split lip and a few nasty red marks on his face that would soon darken to purple.

"Toni, what's going—" started the girl, who stood back, bewildered.

"Bella, why don't you go in the other room," Antonio cut in, uneasy.

"No! I need to know what the hell this is about!" She turned to Gilbert, who still lay on the floor. "Is there a reason you just burst in here and assault my boyfriend?"

"You better fucking bet there is!" Gilbert spat, his voice made nasal by the flow of blood stemming from his nose. He glared up at his two friends. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?" scoffed Francis.

"You fucking know what! You didn't take him home, did you!"

"Gilly, what—"

"Shut the fuck up, Toni! Tim told me he was still there in the morning."

"Wait, who?" Bella asked.

"My little brother!"

Antonio gave Bella a confused look.

"Oh, I… Yeah, I met him. In the morning," she said.

"Well what's wrong with that?" asked Antonio.

"You FUCKING IDIOT—" Gilbert lunged at him only to be pulled back by Francis.

"Maybe," said Francis forcefully, "you had better explain just what exactly has you so upset."

Gilbert yanked himself from Francis' grip and wiped some of the blood that was dripping from his nose and onto his shirt with his sleeve. He trembled, trying to control himself as his dark eyes bore into theirs.

"You… you forced yourselves on him."

Bella gasped softly. Antonio blinked. Francis crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

"Oh, is that what you call it then, when a guy's flirting all night, then willfully engages in intercourse?"

Gilbert felt like he was going to be sick. "It wasn't _willfull!_ "

"And how do you know? You weren't there to see him sucking me off like a seasoned prostitute."

Gilbert would have punched him again if it hadn't been for Antonio grabbing his arms. "DON'T TALK ABOUT MY LITTLE BROTHER THAT WAY!"

"Oh, come on Gilbert, I know you want to be the protective older brother, but Ludwig's old enough to make his own decisions."

"When you're that fucking _high_ it doesn't matter how old you are! He was in no state to agree to anything! And he was a _virgin_ , you FUCKING ASSHOLE!"

Francis rolled his eyes. "Stop worrying. It's not like we even went the whole way. I believe you about the virgin bit, though; he was quite tight, so we ended up resorting to other methods."

This time, Gilbert's fist connected directly with the bridge of Francis' nose. Francis cried out and doubled over in pain.

Antonio pulled Gilbert back again. "Wait, wait! Stop! What are you two talking about?"

Gilbert looked at him incredulously.

Antonio glanced between the two uneasily. "I… I never did that…"

Francis dropped his hand from where it was pressed to his face to stare at his friend. "What the fuck, Toni?"

Antonio swallowed. "I don't… remember, doing that."

Francis blinked, wincing. "Do you remember any of that night?"

"Ah, well… not really… I uh, I took some of those pills from Tim at some point, and uh, I was pretty out of it… After the dance is pretty much blank… But, Gilbert, I'm your friend! I wouldn't—do that, to Ludwig!" He looked at Gilbert desperately.

Gilbert glared. "Well you did."

"Now wait a second," Francis spoke up, holding his nose again. "He's right. Why would we even want to do that to Ludwig, if he didn't want it? Look, Gilbert, it's understandable that he might be a little upset; sometimes people are after hookups, especially if they weren't sober. We were all a little high. But especially considering there are two of us, and we're both guys, he might be a little ashamed to admit to himself what happened, especially if he's still entertaining a pretense of heterosexuality. But that doesn't make it rape."

"I don't fucking care if he's straight or gay or if he was flirting or not, he was way more than a little high! You took advantage! And you… you didn't see his _face_ when he told me." Gilbert's voice cracked on the last sentence.

"Toni—" Bella cut in, "is it true? You… had sex? With a guy?"

Antonio looked at her helplessly.

Francis shrugged. "Well, maybe not sex technically, but…"

Bella paid him no attention. She shook her head, eyes still on her boyfriend. "I should have listened to my brother," she whispered bitterly before stalking past them for the door.

"Hey Bella, wait—" Antonio tried, but the door slammed shut behind her in his face.

"I'm not done with you," growled Gilbert in warning when it looked as though Antonio might follow.

Francis crossed his arms. "No, I think you are. You're making a fool of yourself, Gilbert. We're sorry if your brother's a little upset, but this is an overreaction. And that's a serious accusation. If you're so sure, though, why don't you take it to the dean?"

Gilbert fumed, but after a few moments he dropped his eyes in defeat.

Francis smirked. "That's right, you know you have no case. Now I'm sure Ludwig will get over it and we can all just forget about this."

Gilbert's blood boiled with frustration. His red eyes were slits as he looked back up at them. "You two just stay the fuck away from my brother," he hissed, and stormed off towards the door.

Antonio laid a hand on his shoulder as he passed. "Gilbert, I—"

"Don't fucking touch me!" he snapped, and Antonio pulled away.

Gilbert slammed the door shut behind him, wiping tears of fury and blood from his face as he went.

…

_Riinnggg. Riinnggg._

"Whuh… hello?"

"Hey, Lud."

"Gil? What… Jesus Christ, it's four A.M.!"

"Can you… can you come pick me up? I'm… at the hospital."

"…What? What are you doing at the hospital?"

"Nosebleed. Wouldn't stop. Liz drove me here. Had to get it cauterized."

"Jesus… Um, sure, yeah, yeah, let me… lemme throw something on… The car's at your place?"

"Yeah."

"Ok, I'll—I'll be there soon."

"Thanks."

"Sure. Wait, Gil…"

"Huh?"

"…How'd you get a nosebleed?"

"Um. Tell you about it when you get here."

…

"You did _what?_ " Ludwig nearly swerved into the next lane, but regained his grip on the steering wheel. He glanced at his brother in the passenger seat.

"I punched him in the face," Gilbert repeated simply.

Ludwig gaped at the road in front of him. "You—but—"

"That's what big brothers are supposed to do, isn't it?"

Ludwig sighed. "Gilbert, I don't think that was… the best course of action, necessarily. And you could have gotten hurt a lot worse!" Ludwig's mind raced, thinking of all the reasons it had been a terrible idea, and yet a part of him was oddly, smugly pleased, warm and fond… not that he would let that on to Gilbert.

Gilbert snorted. "You think I care about that? I—" He balled his hands into fists. "I had to do _something_."

"So, what, you went there right after you walked me home?"

"Yeah."

"And you just… started throwing punches?"

"Well, pretty much, yeah. I mean… it's not like I was about to have a civilized conversation with them. I was just— _so angry_ … I, didn't really know what I was doing."

Ludwig glanced back at his brother. The albino was staring at his lap, but his hair screened his face from view.

Ludwig didn't know what to say. So he drove on in silence.

When they reached Gilbert's house, Ludwig went with Gilbert up to his room. He was still a little concerned about his brother; apparently he had been sick a few times at the hospital for swallowing so much of his blood.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Of course, I'm fine. It was nothing, really. Thanks for picking me up though."

Gilbert started stripping to his boxers, tossing his blood-stained shirt into the trashcan. "I don't wanna make you go all the way back to your dorm, though. It's not even five yet. You wanna stay here, get some sleep?"

"Uh, I don't want to be an inconvenience—"

"Oh don't pull that shit. For Christ sakes, you're not an inconvenience Lud."

"Um. Okay."

He watched his brother as he undressed himself. Was this wrong, after… what he had imagined? Ludwig was so much more acutely aware of how exposed they were, of his brother's movements, his muscles shifting under that pale skin. He wasn't sure if he was glad or upset that Gilbert didn't wear a t-shirt to bed.

But this was normal, just normal. Sleeping over at his brother's. And he had seen Gilbert like this—hell, even naked—countless times, so this was nothing.

Gilbert slid under the covers and patted the spot next to him on the bed. Ludwig crawled in after and reached over to turn off the lamp on Gilbert's bureau before settling back on a pillow.

"You don't—feel sick or anything, do you?"

"Naw. 'M fine."

"…That was really stupid of you, you know."

"They deserved it."

"…"

"Hey Lud?"

"Yeah?"

"You promise me you'll tell me if they bother you."

"…Yeah."

Silence for a while.

"Toni says he doesn't remember."

"What do you mean?"

"He blacked out. Few too many pills. Seemed… upset."

Ludwig swallowed. He was glad it was dark. Darkness was right for their soft voices, clinging to the dim air particles in front of their faces.

"Oh."

"…Ludwig, are you—" Gilbert paused.

"What?"

"…Never mind. Doesn't matter."

He had been thinking about what Francis had said. 'Flirting.' 'Entertaining a pretense of heterosexuality.' But this wasn't the time to ask about Ludwig's orientation. His brother would tell him if he wanted to. And besides, it didn't really matter. It was still rape. A sexual act without consent. His baby brother…

_And he had been down the hall making out with Matthew._

The lump was rising in his throat and the hot tears pricking at his eyes before he could stop them.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry Lud, I should have been there, I should have taken you home myself, it was my job to look after you—"

"Gilbert—" Ludwig looked at his brother, alarmed. He couldn't see his face very well, but it sounded like he was crying.

"—and instead I just h-handed you to them, and, and I was so _fucking_ stupid—"

"Gilbert, no—"

"—I was j-just concerned about getting some fucking ass inst-stead of looking after my baby b-brother—"

"Gilbert!" He grasped his brother's arm. "Don't say that. You… It's not your fault."

"B-but I—"

"No. Don't do that. Don't blame yourself." He reached up and felt wetness on Gilbert's cheek.

Gilbert's hitched breathing calmed slightly. "I— I'm sorry. You shouldn't be the one doing the comforting." He laughed ruefully.

There was so much to say, and yet neither could find the words. So they were silent again. Then, Gilbert turned to Ludwig and pulled him to his chest in a tight embrace, hoping that his strong arms, his firm grip, would say everything that he himself could not.

Ludwig felt it was almost desperate, the way Gilbert was holding him so close, but desperate for what he couldn't say. Forgiveness? To provide protection? To heal? Whatever the case, he let himself simply be held, because for once he felt he needed it.

Telling Gilbert had left him feeling open, raw. Before he had been able to act like it would go away if he just ignored it. But voicing what had happened left no room for doubt. It simply made it painfully obvious to him that somehow, he had been made into some sort of, victim. But he couldn't seem to reconcile that word with him, Ludwig Beilschmidt. Ludwig, male eighteen-year-old nearly six-foot straight-A student Ludwig, a victim?

He tried to memorize the feeling of his brother's biceps pressing his sides, his warm neck as he buried his face in it.

Eventually Gilbert's grip slackened a little and they settled comfortably on the pillows, though his arms stayed around his little brother's shoulders. Ludwig almost didn't want to fall asleep, just so he could savor the weight of the limb draped across his chest, but in the end drowsiness pulled his lids shut despite his efforts.

…

Ludwig was daydreaming in Kirkland's class again.

Sleeping with his brother's solid warmth next to him had been… perfect. And yet now, in Gilbert's absence, the memory of it left him feeling achy, empty.

He imagined how it might have gone differently. How a kiss on the cheek might have gotten sloppy, brushed a corner of the lips, and their mouths would meet. Gilbert would be shocked at first, but surprised to find he liked the sensation, and allow things to go further. And they were already there in bed, so exposed and yet concealed under the covers, so open to each other, so warm. Hands would venture to forbidden places, mouths would follow…

Ludwig realized he was staring at Mathias' notebook with hazy eyes and slack jaw, and quickly licked his dry lips and swallowed, glancing around and hoping it just looked like he had been spacing out in a more… innocent way.

God, what was he doing? Daydreaming about sex with your brother was not an appropriate pastime.

He really ought to listen to the lecture, but, he just didn't feel like it. Maybe he could think about the brothers from the manga instead. That wouldn't be so bad, would it? Yes… he could even substitute them into the same situation, play it out that way. Then it wouldn't be so dirty; then he wouldn't feel quite so disgusting for sitting here at this table surrounded by people who flinched at the mere mention of incest. Of course, it was still incest he was thinking about, but at least it wasn't so… personal, real.

He wondered which of the fictional brothers he was more like, and which Gilbert was more like. He wondered how their first sexual encounter might have happened. Would they have tried to resist it? According to most of what he'd seen online, most people seemed to think not. Usually they jumped right into bed with each other with hardly a second thought. But, how could that be? How could that be when they had grown up as brothers, when they had parents and friends who would surely all think it was so wrong…

And then, Ludwig had come across people who were adamantly against the pairing. People who said they were brothers and were meant to stay that way, that it was just disturbing and gross that people wanted to sexualize their relationship. And he had to admit, he liked seeing them that way, too, as caring, teasing brothers. But then, it made him think; wouldn't they be afraid of losing that, of ruining their relationship, if they took things further?

The girl sitting next to him was answering a question, and, wary of Kirkland's eyes wandering so close to him and seeing him zoned out, he quickly picked up his pen and started jotting down a few random notes. Class was almost over, so Ludwig decided he ought to at least pay attention to the closing comments.

Professor Kirkland cleared his throat. "So. In his last essay, "On Experience," Montaigne makes it clear that experience, above all, is valuable. He even goes so far as to say that to be a true physician one must first suffer from all these different diseases oneself. Study is no replacement for experience."

Ludwig raised his hand, thinking he ought to contribute at least something today. He just hoped it hadn't already been said.

"Yes, Ludwig." Maybe it was just in Ludwig's mind, but he thought Professor Kirkland seemed rather pleased that he was speaking up.

"Well, doesn't he also say that it's best to just withdraw from worldly affairs and be a spectator? And being a spectator seems contradictory to experience. Especially since Montaigne is writing about so many subjects, even cannibals in the New World, isn't it hypocritical of him to say that experience is key when he himself is just going to retire to his books?"

"Ah." Ludwig was satisfied by the smile that came to Kirkland's face. "You raise a good point. Is Montaigne contradicting himself? He has indeed had plenty of critics in the past, so it's entirely possible to take that stance. But also, consider: while Montaigne may not be going out and experiencing much of the world, he is certainly reading about it. And this begs the question yet again of reading and its relation to experience. Is it possibly a legitimate surrogate for experience? Is that vicarious experience experience enough in Montaigne's mind? Or do his writings, his opinions, still lack legitimacy until they have been backed up with concrete experience rather than just literary references and quotes? He does certainly use plenty of personal anecdotes, but also many, many citations of other authors.

Well, that's all we have time for, so I'll leave you with that question to ponder over this weekend. You'll find the _Don Quixote_ readings for next week on your syllabus."

Ludwig was indeed pondering it over as he collected his things and shuffled with the others out into the crowded hallway. If he was reading—but no, the manga, the fanfictions, those were all just for entertainment. Surely that was different.

Ludwig headed towards the stairs. This time, he saw him coming. It was hard to miss posh, flamboyant Francis on a regular day, but even more so when he was sporting a black eye and bandaged nose. He looked determined to carry it off with style, however.

Ludwig sucked in his breath and tried to look inconspicuous as he made his way down the hall, keeping his eyes down. But no luck. He got caught up behind a traffic jam by the stairwell, and before he knew it Francis had somehow managed to situate Ludwig between himself and a wall.

Ludwig tried to just ignore him and step around, but Francis laid a hand on his shoulder and pressed him back with slightly more than friendly force.

"Hey, what's the matter Ludwig, you don't recognize your friend with these pretty bruises on his face?"

A slight chill ran down his spine. He struggled to find his voice. "Please, let go," he said quietly, eyes locked on his feet.

"Oh, but I think we need to have a little chat. You know who gave me this fine makeover, don't you?"

Ludwig was silent. He felt like an invisible hand had plunged itself down his throat to wreak havoc with his innards.

"So you told your brother about our little romp, I see. He seems to think it was something quite… different from what it was though. Perhaps your memory is a little impaired?" He leaned in close to Ludwig's head. "Do I need to refresh it for you?"

Ludwig reacted automatically to the invasive gesture, bringing his hands up to retain some personal space.

Francis withdrew. "Hm, you seem a lot less receptive now than you did then. Why the difference?"

He was speaking slightly too loud for Ludwig's tastes. There were still people in the hallway. "I—I wasn't, receptive…" he mumbled.

Francis chuckled. "Oh? With the way you were moaning like a whore I would think it would be a little more difficult to forget."

Ludwig's face flushed. _No, he hadn't—he didn't—_

Francis was right in front of him again, leaning an arm against the wall behind Ludwig's head. "You really do like a nice, thick cock, don't you? In that pretty little mouth of yours… But I bet you'd like it even better in that pretty little ass—"

"Get away from me!" Ludwig tore himself away from the cage of Francis' arms.

"Francis?"

They turned to look at who had spoken and found Professor Kirkland standing in the middle of the hallway, eyes flitting between the two of them skeptically.

His eyes met Ludwig's, emerald, piercing.

Ludwig couldn't take it. He couldn't have his teacher see him like this. He bolted past them and stumbled down the stairwell, shaking.

How much had Kirkland heard? What would he think?

His footsteps only slowed once he reached his dorm. He was still trembling in the elevator up to his floor.

Once he got to his room, he collapsed onto his bed, disregarding Feliciano, who was sitting on his own bed.

"Hm? You okay Ludwig?" Feliciano asked innocently, looking up from his laptop.

"…Just… tired."

"Oh."

Ludwig rolled over to face the wall. He couldn't take this. He just wanted… what? What did he even want?

"Um, Luddy?"

"…What?"

"Um, you know, you can talk to me if you want to; sometimes it helps if you just—"

"No. Uh, I mean, thanks, but, I… don't feel like talking."

"Oh. O-Okay, that's—that's fine, too."

Ludwig didn't turn to look at his roommate. Instead, he stayed where he was and ended up dozing off into a fitful sleep.

When he awoke, it was already dark outside. Feliciano was gone.

He sat up and wiped some drool from the side of his mouth. He felt gross, sleeping in his clothes. He had wasted a good portion of the day too, but now… he still didn't feel like doing anything.

He leaned against the wall, gazing dejectedly at Feliciano's half of the room.

… _Moaning?_ Had he really been _moaning?_

What kind of guy was he anyway, that he would just let two other men have their way with him? He should never have let things go so far… He was a… a… what Francis had said. A _whore_. Sure, maybe women were usually called that, but why not a guy, when he let others use his body indiscriminately? When he led on guys he barely knew? What was he hoping for, anyway, acting like that with other guys? Was he… Did this really mean he was gay?

Well, with the way he'd been thinking about his brother… But, wasn't that different, maybe? After all, Gilbert wasn't just any guy, it wasn't like a crush or something, it was, just, wanting to be _closer_ to his brother.

Ludwig sighed. It was ridiculous. Crazy.

He heard a slight buzz coming from his bag and pulled out his cellphone.

A text message. From Gilbert.

_Hey bro how ya doin'?_

He stared at it for a while, then decided to pretend he hadn't seen it and simply go back to sleep.

…

Ludwig couldn't concentrate. Every time he actually worked up the willpower to pick up a book or sit down to write, his mind would start wandering within the first few minutes. The only thing he seemed able to keep his attention on was reading doujins and stories about the brothers, which he did whenever he felt he needed a break from his fruitless efforts at getting work done.

It was frustrating, to say the least. Where had his diligence gone? He had always had such a good work ethic, always kept on top of things, but now he felt like he couldn't bring himself to finish an assignment until the last possible moment before it was due.

Thoughts about what Francis had said would fill his head, and he would push them out of the way in favor of thinking about Gilbert, and then he would push those terribly dirty thoughts away to think about the fictional brothers instead. And the cycle would repeat over and over again.

Maybe it was just something he needed to get out of his system, he thought as he browsed through a collection of explicit illustrations of his favorite characters. He could feel tingles shoot through his gut at some of the more enticing pictures. How was he possibly going to get any work done now? No, he needed… a release.

And yet, as salacious as some of the drawings were, they just weren't the same as those real, live moving images on the screen he was so used to watching.

He sighed and pulled up a private browser. Time for some porn. And then, surely then, he could bear to read a chapter of _Don Quixote._

Ludwig browsed through the thumbnail previews of video after video. Nothing seemed especially enticing, though. It was all so much alike. He wanted something truly exciting—but even the kink videos and BDSM selection didn't look too appealing today.

He glanced at the categories. What did he want…

His eyes scanned down, and then stopped, along with his breathing. He had never tried _that_ before… Maybe… Well, it certainly would be something different…

Still holding his breath, he moved his mouse to the button labeled "gay." He clicked.

Ludwig felt the thrill of the unknown, the forbidden, all over again as he took in the pictures of men, with men. In all positions and situations imaginable. This was really—something else. He felt a little guilty, like he shouldn't be looking at this, but in the end that only added to the excitement.

He cringed at some of the images of larger, older, hairy men, or guys with too many muscles and tattoos, but… There, that one looked alright, with two decent-looking guys about his age.

He clicked on it, glanced furtively around his room (he was alone), put in his headphones, and settled back to watch.

They were on the bed, just kissing and touching each other for quite a while, but Ludwig was surprised to find he was okay with it. After all, they were both good-looking, and had good bodies…

It was weird, at first, to see them kissing, taking turns feeling each other up, like equals, not at all like the way other porn he watched was usually set up. Here, the roles seemed less defined, each move less predictable. Ludwig couldn't even tell which guy was supposed to be the "bottom" or the "top." But it was refreshing, in a way, and by the time they had pulled each other's clothes off and starting sucking each other off, Ludwig could feel his cock stirring in interest. He was actually getting hard to gay porn. Was that possible for a straight guy?

His fingers stayed down to his crotch, rubbing lightly over the small bulge through the fabric of his jeans. He found his mouth hanging slightly open as he watched, in detail, how one of the men ran his tongue around the glans of the other, then closed his glistening lips around the considerably long cock and slid perfectly up and down as the other's head rolled back in pleasure, hands rubbing through the hair and across the shoulders of his partner.

Ludwig watched, rapt, as they sixty-nined, lithe bodies fluctuating in perfect unison, and then one started rimming the other. As gross as the idea of licking an anus was, he had to admit it was still a bit of a turn-on. After all, he had liked it when he had experimented with fingering himself. He also remembered, almost mechanically, that that's what Antonio had done to him. But he set that thought aside.

The subjects of the video were still in the midst of foreplay when Ludwig decided the confines of his pants were really too much for his hardening cock. He pulled his half-stiff member out and began stroking the soft, hot flesh in long, slow pulls. He tried to mimic with his fingers what they were doing with their tongues, coating his shaft with spit and teasing over it and around the head with varying touches.

When one of the boys finally entered the other, Ludwig was uneasy at how the receiving partner cringed and tensed, but soon the man was moaning as the other rolled so perfectly in and out, in and out. Ludwig tightened his grasp and stroked longer, harder.

Even after reading countless yaoi doujinshi it was strange to see two like bodies conjoined in such a way. Illustrations on a page couldn't capture how a flat stomach flexed with each thrust, or how the cock of the bottoming partner bounced up and down when it wasn't being attended to by some hand or another.

Ludwig was working hard now, up and down his shaft as the men onscreen went through an inventive array of sexual positions. He could feel heat pooling in his abdomen and the need to pump more, more, like he was being wrenched up, up, towards some ineluctable goal.

But there was something markedly unsatisfying about the knowledge that it was just him, doing this to himself. Ludwig liked to fantasize, sometimes inserting himself into the scenario he was watching, other times coming up with something more personal, more real… Who was he interested in? Okay, the brothers from the manga were hot, but, they were cartoons. And fictional. What if… But no, he really shouldn't do that… And yet he still just had to wonder: what would it be like to masturbate to the thought of… his brother?

At first he was only half-committed. It seemed like such a breach of all propriety; he only imagined Gilbert's hand in place of his, only saw in his mind that arm and shoulder, so it could really be any especially pale-skinned guy jerking him off. But still, he knew, on the periphery of his mind's eye should be Gilbert's face.

It was titillating, and finally he brought himself to see those red eyes looking back at him. "G—…" he started in a whisper. His lips barely formed the name as his hand continued to go up and down, up and down, pulling him closer and closer. "Gil—…" But there was hardly any sound passing his lips. His name, oh God his _name_ … that was so… so _bad_. To actually speak his name—but how would it feel? To give it voice to the solitary air?

He took in an unsteady breath. "Gilbert," he barely whispered, then again "Gilbert," more loudly. And then he couldn't stop.

"Gilbert, _Gilbert_ oh yes, hah, Gil…" The name was intoxicating as his nerves were bombarded with pleasure, the onslaught of his hand never ceasing. "Oh God, please Gilbert," he groaned quietly, and saw his brother's silver head dip down, then stop to look up at him. Gilbert smirked, then slowly, slowly trailed his tongue up the shaft (Ludwig wet his fingers to recreate the sensation), then engulfed the head in his hot wet mouth, lips sealing around the member perfectly and oh _God_ he was close—

"Yes, yes, Gilbert!" he whined through his panting. He could see his cock sliding through his brother's perfect lips as he bobbed his head, always looking up with those lovely eyes, shifting from violet to burgundy, locking them with Ludwig's.

The video had stopped, but the laptop lay forgotten as Ludwig neared release. A constant string of mumblings left his lips: "Fuck, Gilbert, ah yeah, oohh Gilbert, yes, Gil, Gil, _Gil_ oh shit, oh God _brother_ , please, yes, make me cum—ha, Gilbert!" His head fell back as he arched off the bed and seed came spurting from his throbbing cock. He caught it in his hand.

He lay there panting for a few minutes. He inspected his dirtied hand. Had he really just…

Before, it had all been in his head. Just a thought experiment, almost like a game. But now, he had acted on it. It was still an action that only he was aware of, still his own dirty, disgusting secret, but it was real. Physical. Actually speaking his name out loud, that was recordable, like evidence that could be used against him.

Ludwig knew he was tainted by what he had just done. And for what? Morbid curiosity? Why did he feel the need to do that? And yet, he felt oddly blank, staring at his semen-coated hand as if it was not his own.

There must be something wrong with him.

He washed his hands twice, and twice again for good measure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: some "brotherly bonding" of an interesting sort.


	12. Chapter 9, Part 1

"Hm. Did you know that approximately three in one thousand men can suck their own dick?"

Ludwig looked up from his textbook to glare at his brother. "No. I didn't know that. Guess I'm not one of the three in a thousand. …And that sounds disgusting, actually."

"Are you kidding me? That would be awesome!" exclaimed Gilbert. "I wonder what position they use…"

He got up from his desk chair and sat on the floor with his legs open, attempting to bend his head forward. Unsatisfied with his results, he lay down on his back and pulled his legs up in the air over his head.

Ludwig eyed him skeptically from where he was lounging on his brother's bed. "…Gilbert, what are you doing?"

"Trying to see if I could give myself head, duh," he said, voice strained by the position.

"Good luck with that. Don't break your spine."

Gilbert "hmphed" and continued his futile attempt.

Ludwig's eyes lingered on his brother's ass up in the air a few moments longer than they should have before he forced them back to his reading. "I thought this was supposed to be a study session?"

"Study break," Gilbert grunted out.

Suddenly a vibrating noise seemed to emanate from somewhere near Gilbert's butt. Ludwig was scandalized for a moment, until Gilbert reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, rolling back up into a sitting position. Ludwig breathed a silent sigh of relief, blushing at where his thoughts had gone.

"Heya Mattie!" Gilbert grinned and Ludwig raised his eyebrows, watching his brother while pretending to keep his attention on his psychology reading.

"It's been pretty awesome. I went to brunch with my roommates at that new pancake shop— …True, the syrup's not as good, but— …Kesese, yeah definitely! So how was your day? …Sweet. …No, just chillin'… oh, well, I mean, I'm actually hangin' with my little brother right now, but, maybe later? …Awesome! Yeah, that works for me. See you then! Bye!"

Gilbert grinned at his phone after hanging up.

Ludwig wanted to be happy for his brother. He was happy for him, on some level, but he wished he could just be completely, unequivocally happy for him, with no selfish, sick desires holding back the support he owed Gilbert as a brother.

"Did you just back out on a date with Matt to stay here and study with me?"

"Hm? Oh, it's okay, I'll see him later. Besides, I feel like we haven't been hanging out much."

Ludwig turned back to his textbook with a noncommittal hum. He had been giving Gilbert the excuse of "I have to study for midterms" so much recently that his brother had finally invited him over to his room to work just so he could see him. Ludwig felt a little guilty for avoiding him, but he also was slightly peeved at the idea that Gilbert just wanted to keep an eye on him. He didn't like it when his brother was patronizing. He could take care of himself. And he hadn't heard from Francis since their last encounter.

Then, of course, there was also the fact, which Ludwig couldn't help but think of, that he had shamed himself more than once over the past few days with his brother's name panted to the dark air when he was alone in his room with his burning need and soiled hands. It was so strange, sitting here now with the oblivious object of his fantasies feet away, conversing so normally he could almost convince himself nothing had changed, nothing was wrong.

"And anyway," added Gilbert suddenly, "I kinda want to take things slow with him. Don't wanna screw this one up."

Ludwig blinked. "Screw it up? How?"

"Well, you know. Make sure that we can really… get along, not just rely on sex. Those relationships don't last." Gilbert grimaced.

"…Are you… in love?" Ludwig blushed as he said the words, almost dreading the answer.

Gilbert colored slightly. "Ah, _in_ love? Well, heh, I… I'm not sure I know what that means. I think it's a little early to say that. I mean, to be honest, I never felt that, like, magic spark or whatever that's supposed to happen. But, I… I mean, he… he just makes me really happy."

Ludwig nodded slowly.

Gilbert cleared his throat. "But, I mean, at least this way he can back out before we get too involved, if he wants. Less messy."

Ludwig frowned. "You shouldn't base your relationships on how they might end."

Gilbert smiled ruefully. "Believe me, little bro, when you've been disappointed as many times as I have, you'll know it's best not to get your hopes up."

"But any guy would be lucky to have you!" Ludwig responded angrily, before he could think about what he was saying.

Gilbert's cheeks pinkened. "Heh, thanks, Lud." But the way his mouth twisted as he looked away made Ludwig think he didn't believe him.

Gilbert turned his attention to his laptop, and Ludwig eventually went back to reading.

After a while he heard Gilbert snort at something on his computer, but ignored it. Then Gilbert snorted again, and it turned into a full-out laugh.

Irritated and more curious than he would admit, Ludwig looked at his brother. The screen was blocked from his view. "What?" he asked.

"Um, nothing! Nothing, don't worry about it." Gilbert tried to control his mirth.

"Oh come on, what is it?"

"Nothing, really! Read your book."

That did it for Ludwig. Annoyed and itching with curiosity, he hopped off the bed and went to look over Gilbert's shoulder.

Gilbert grabbed his laptop and pulled in onto his lap, hunching over it and turning his back to his brother.

"Gilbert, let me see!" Ludwig hated how whiny he sounded.

"No!" Gilbert giggled. He was starting to blush again. "You… wouldn't like it."

Ludwig narrowed his eyes. "You can't do that, Gilbert. That's not fair."

"Too bad. I'm older." Gilbert stuck out his tongue.

"And I'm more mature!" Ludwig pouted.

"Oh yeah, you're really acting like it now."

"Oh shut up, not like you're acting any better. Come on, what are you afraid of?"

"Who said I'm afraid?"

"Then why won't you show me?"

Gilbert looked at him shrewdly for a moment, then raised his eyebrows with a sigh. "Well, don't say I didn't warn you…" He was practically beet red as he placed the laptop back on the desk. "Liz sent it to me," he added as a hasty disclaimer.

Ludwig looked at the screen. And he blushed. "…What the…"

"Told you you wouldn't like it!"

"No—I mean, it's just—it's—what _is_ this?"

"Well, it's, uh, smurfs. Having sex, as it would appear."

"Yeah, I gathered…"

Ludwig watched in horror and fascination as two live actors, every inch of their naked bodies covered in blue paint, went at it with each other on the computer screen. They even had the white hats. And they both happened to be very much male.

Ludwig had seen some crazy things in his porn-surfing life. But…? "…Smurf… porn?"

"Well, as I said, Liz found it… She, uh, finds some crazy stuff sometimes…" Gilbert seemed vaguely uncomfortable. "I thought you, uh, didn't go in for… um," he jerked his head at the screen, "guys… with, guys."

Ludwig swallowed. "Uh—well, I—I mean, does this really count? This is… smurf on smurf—oh, my God…" Ludwig's eyes widened as another man walked onscreen in a red hat and fake white beard. Papa Smurf.

Gilbert laughed nervously as the Papa Smurf began fucking one of the others so they were all in a line, moving in haphazard tandem.

Ludwig felt especially awkward when the camera angle switched to a close up of a large blue cock plowing in and out of blue asscheeks, which were slowly fading back to their original flesh color with the constant friction.

"Um, well, heh, rule 34: there's porn for everything. Guess that shit's real," Gilbert said to break their awkward silence at the explicit image.

"Right," Ludwig said with an attempt at a joking tone.

But then they fell back to watching the video, both pretending that it was simply the most ridiculous and outlandish thing they had ever seen, which it was, though it was strangely… arousing at the same time.

"Heh, hey Lud—what's the weirdest porn you've even watched?"

"Huh?" Ludwig tore his eyes from the groaning, humping blue men to look at his brother. "What—I don't know!" he said crossly.

"Aw c'mon, you gotta have seen something weird before. I mean, you do watch porn, right? Or are you even more of a prude than I give you credit for?"

"Wh—I—" Ludwig stuttered, flustered and blushing bright pink. "O-of course I—I mean, wh—" He huffed in frustration. "It's just, I don't know, I don't usually watch weird shit like _smurf porn_."

A smirk crept across Gilbert's face. "Oh yeah? What _do_ you usually watch then?"

Ludwig made a small indignant sound in his throat as he colored even more. "I—G-gilbert—" He sighed irritably. "I don't really want to talk about this." He looked away, cheeks burning.

"Why not?" asked Gilbert gleefully. "What's the matter, Lud? Haven't you ever talked porn with your friends before? Or watched porn together for that matter?"

"Wh—NO! I have not! That's—that's something you only do alone!"

"Kesesese! Are you kidding me? You've really been missing out, bro! Watching porn together is like, such a bonding experience. Okay, come on, sit down. We're gonna do this."

"Wh-what?"

"Pull up a chair! Now tell me, what kind of porn do you like, Luddy?" Gilbert's eyes twinkled mischievously.

Ludwig just stared at his brother before weakly sinking into the spare chair.

"Don't tell me—" Gilbert admonished mockingly, "You must really be into the nasty stuff if you're this embarrassed to say…"

Ludwig reddened to the point he was sure his head would explode.

"Nn—mm," he grunted, trying to find words in his mortification.

"Come on, tell big brother Gilly…"

Ludwig scowled, dropping his eyes. "Ilkbnnj," he grumbled.

"What was that? Sorry, couldn't hear ya."

"I like bondage," Ludwig gritted out, keeping his eyes fixed determinedly his knees.

Gilbert didn't respond immediately. Ludwig looked up to see a huge, shit-eating grin on his brother's face. His stomach did a flip.

"Oh ho ho, Luddy, I never would've thunk it of ya…"

Ludwig rolled his eyes as Gilbert turned to his computer to type something. When he was done he sat back and indicated the screen. "Ok, take your pick."

Ludwig glanced at the little thumbnails of bound and gagged victims and men and women brandishing whips. "What? No! I'm not going to—"

"Well if you won't I will," smirked Gilbert.

He started a video and sat back, glancing at his little brother and not bothering much to hide the amused look on his face.

"This look good to you, Luddy?" he asked as a man in a guard's uniform started trailing a rubber whip over the naked body of a woman suspended in mid-air through a complicated system of ropes and bars.

Ludwig shot a glare at his brother before muttering, "Fine."

"Kesese, little bro likes the kinky stuff!"

"Shut up."

Gilbert was silent for a few seconds, though the smirk didn't leave his face. Ludwig found he actually preferred some sort of running commentary to alleviate his embarrassment.

"Woah! She's got some nice tits!" Gilbert called out as the man attached a pair of clips to the woman's nipples. "Think they're real?"

Ludwig colored. "I don't know."

"Aw c'mon, can't you tell when boobs are real or not?"

"Well you just asked!"

"Yeah, but I mean… maybe you can't always tell 100%, but—look at the way they just kinda sit there when he whips them. They don't jiggle around! Fake, I'd say."

"Sure, fake."

"Well don't you agree? I mean fuck, have you ever seen a girl with boobs that round—"

"OKAY, YES, I agree, they're fake." Ludwig could feel the flush rising up his face.

"Although, actually, come to think—Kat's boobs kinda are that round, aren't they? And they're definitely natural… so soft, right?"

Ludwig cleared his throat and pursed his lips. "Mm-hm."

Gilbert laughed. "Well aren't they? You felt them too!"

"I said yes!" Ludwig complained, not meeting his brother's eyes. It was a little uncomfortable to remember that particular sexual encounter, especially in the very room where it had occurred… But God, why hadn't he savored it _more_ —watching his brother lost in ecstasy, muscles flexing, skin shining, and clutching his brother's hands as he orgasmed…

"Kesese, you okay there Lud?" Gilbert smirked, thinking that Ludwig's open mouth and lazy stare were due to the images on the screen. "Turned on that much already?"

Fuck, he thought, wiping the aroused look off his face as he straightened up. "I'm fine," he growled, angry with himself for losing control of his thoughts and body like that when Gilbert was right next to him.

"Kesese, sure ya are."

Ludwig tried his best to keep his attention on the video after that, half-listening to Gilbert's string of exclamations and jokes ("oh FUCK that is one huge dildo—even I'm not that big!" and "there is no way all of that's real. At least half of that must be lube dripping down her legs" or "shit! Hope you own a Segway, 'cause I don't think you're walking tomorrow"). To his dismay, however, close-ups of rubber slapping against flesh and a stiff cock thrusting in and out of multiple wet orifices were having their effects on his body. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the warmness in his groin and the barest beginnings of an erection.

Finally the video ended. Gilbert turned to Ludwig. "I think we could find better than that, don't you? You pick this time."

Suddenly an idea crossed Ludwig's mind. "No. That wouldn't be fair; I've told you my kink, now you have to tell me yours." He tried to convince himself that that was the only reason he was asking, that he was only teasing in a brotherly way, that he didn't actually want to know what turned Gilbert on _really badly_ …

Gilbert glared, a slight blush dusting his cheeks. He couldn't seem to think of a comeback, so he huffed and looked away. "This is stupid. You won't like what I'm into anyway."

"No cop-outs."

Gilbert pouted for a moment, then chewed on his lip before saying, "Well, I'm kinda, into…" Suddenly he blushed hard and glanced at Ludwig. "Don't judge, okay?" he said quite seriously.

"Gilbert, I told you I like BDSM. I'm not going to judge you." He was truly curious now, though.

"Fine. Well, I like… twincest." Gilbert was still red as he fixed his eyes straight ahead.

Ludwig's mind went blank for a moment. Did his brother just say he was into _twins?_ As in, tw- _incest?_

"…Twincest? You mean, like… brothers?" he asked breathlessly.

Gilbert must have interpreted his apprehension as being creeped out, because he turned to Ludwig with a horrified look to assure him, "But they're twins! I mean, it's not like I'm into _incest_. I'm not _that_ much of a freak. C'mon, give me some credit here."

"…Right…" Ludwig looked away, not wanting to admit the disappointment and hurt he felt. He cleared his throat. "So… twincest video then? …Do those even exist?"

Gilbert blinked. "Wait, you're not totally freaked out by that?"

"Uh, well, I mean… you watched a bondage video, now… shouldn't we… watch what you like?" he suggested weakly.

"Uhh, okay… but, I mean, you—you're, okay, with that?"

Ludwig shrugged. "Don't know until you try, right?" he asked, blushing.

"Okay…" Gilbert said nervously. He leaned into his laptop.

"Um, so… people actually make that stuff though? Like, um, real brothers?" Ludwig asked, feeling slightly light-headed.

"Uh, yeah, they do… It's, uh, pretty messed up, I know… And I mean, it's not like it's widespread. Honestly, the real deal is hard to come by. Can't blame them though, I guess." He pulled up a video. "This is a pair of Czech twins who actually go the whole way, though… Um, apparently they're, like, a couple or something… I dunno, anyway, um, yeah, here goes." He pressed play and leaned back, blushing furiously.

 _A couple?_ Ludwig was thinking. _They're romantically involved? They have sex off-camera? And they're brothers? People… do that?_

He swallowed and watched wide-eyed as the two identical boys—they must be about his own age—stood side by side, perfect mirrors of each other. They began touching each other's bodies and stroking each other's erect cocks until one got down on his knees and began giving the other head. The receiving twin groaned as his head lolled back and ran his fingers through his brother's hair. Ludwig's brow creased, lips parted. He felt hot.

Gilbert shifted in his seat, biting his lip. He looked embarrassed. He clutched the armrests of his chair subconsciously as the twins moved to the couch and one began giving the other a rim job.

The camera didn't leave anything to the imagination in capturing the one twin's tongue as it laved at his brother's asshole. Ludwig had to suppress a noise at the sight. Oh _God_ , they were _brothers_ , real flesh and blood _brothers_ and he could see it all, every bit of it of it had actually happened… _and they loved each other._

Gilbert cleared his throat again and rested his head in his hand, palm covering his mouth, as one entered the other, provoking loud groans from the both of them.

The slow, steady in and out of hips, the smooth slide of a meaty cock in a toned ass, the subtle movement of defined muscles on a powerful body, were too much for Ludwig to bear. By the time the twins had cum—in each other's mouths, to be exact—Ludwig was undeniably hard.

Gilbert turned to his brother after the video had ended with a nervous smile on his face. "Well, there ya have it—twincest!" He laughed feebly.

Ludwig grunted with what must have seemed like a stricken look on his face. Gilbert took it to mean that he had mortified his brother—which was true, in a sense—and, embarrassed, turned to his computer again.

"Ok, back to bondage!" He clicked the first video that came up.

This one was a school setting, with a student letting her teacher tie her up and fuck her to get an "A."

"I wonder how often this really happens," Ludwig said skeptically to try to defuse the situation.

"Eh, probably more often than you think," Gilbert said vaguely.

"Really?"

"Well, sure, I mean d'you expect to hear about it when it happens?"

"…Guess that's true."

"But, this is a little extreme. I mean, if a teacher was keeping sexual bondage gear in their desk, I think that would def increase the likelihood of their getting caught."

Gilbert mercifully continued his commentary on the video, but still, seeing the details of yet another act of coitus did nothing to help Ludwig's situation. His very _hard_ situation. And he couldn't stop thinking about those twins… those _brothers_ …

"Uh, Lud? You okay?" Gilbert smirked at him as he tried not to look aroused. "Heh, you really just love this stuff, don't you?"

Ludwig rolled his eyes. "It's not the best I've seen."

"Oh yeah? 'Cause…" Gilbert's eyes slid down to his crotch—"looks like someone's pitching a tent down there." He sniggered.

Ludwig's hands flew to his crotch to try to cover his now very apparent erection. "Well we're watching porn for God's sake, what do you expect! I'm a guy!" he defended angrily. "What, are you telling me you're completely unaffected by all this?"

He leaned forward to try to get a glimpse of his brother's crotch, but Gilbert crossed his legs with an annoyed blush on his cheeks.

Ludwig raised his eyebrows. "Uh-huh. Thought so."

With a huff, Gilbert uncrossed his legs, revealing a lump in his jeans. "It's just a small one though."

Satisfied, and even slightly more turned on by the sight of his brother in a state of arousal, Ludwig settled back to watch the video some more, though he wished he could get some sort of release.

Gilbert tugged fitfully at the cloth over his erection, trying to find some relief. Finally, he muttered, "Screw this," and started unbuckling his belt.

Ludwig blinked at him. "Gilbert, what are you doing?" His heart quickened as Gilbert pulled down his zipper.

"Well come on, this is stupid, right?" he said, reaching into his boxers. "We're both sitting here horny, so why don't we just jack off? I mean, we're brothers, so, why not? I've done this with my friends before."

Gilbert's hand had started to move inside his boxers. Ludwig did his best to keep his eyes on his face and not pay attention to the slow, repetitive hitch in Gilbert's shoulder.

"Uhhhh... b-but…" Ludwig felt far too warm. He couldn't deny how needy he felt. And how much he actually, truly wanted to watch Gilbert masturbate. He could feel his groin tingle in anticipation at the thought of getting off to his brother, here, in real life.

But that would be wrong, wouldn't it? To agree on false pretenses? If Gilbert knew what he was thinking, surely he would never propose such a thing…

But Gilbert didn't know. And what Gilbert didn't know, couldn't hurt him.

Ludwig swallowed and reached for the button on his pants, forcing his eyes back to the computer screen.

"Kesese, brotherly bonding, right?"

Ludwig snorted as he reached into his pants. "I think you have a slightly bizarre idea of 'brotherly bonding,' Gilbert."

"Nonsense! I'm sure lots of brothers do this."

"Hm."

Ludwig wrapped his hand around his hard shaft and breathed in deeply at the welcoming warmth of his palm. He started stroking in long pulls against his smooth, fevered skin.

Gilbert brought his member out of his boxers and Ludwig followed suit, relishing in the freedom of his erection to feel the open air.

He glanced at his brother. Gilbert's eyes were on the screen. Ludwig's gaze slid down to his erection, which he was pumping steadily.

He swallowed, spurred to move his own hand just a little faster by the sight of his brother's at work.

His chair was slightly behind Gilbert's. If he kept his face pointed at the laptop, Gilbert wouldn't be able to tell his eyes were on him…

He stroked harder, faster, watching intently the way Gilbert alternated between grasping his cock at the base and waving it a little, and rubbing it up and down, up and down, with a slight added twist of his wrist. After a few minutes of this, it had reached a truly impressive length.

Gilbert turned to his brother and Ludwig quickly dropped his eyes to his own work. "Sooo, how's it goin'? That your full length?"

Ludwig blushed. "Uh, yeah, I think."

"How long are you, bro?"

"Um, I don't know…"

"Oh come on, every guy knows the length of his own dick. How long are you?"

Ludwig shrugged. "Like… close to seven inches, I think?"

Gilbert examined him skeptically but nodded. "Maybe. But you do have good girth, gotta say."

Ludwig blushed. His brother thought he had… _good girth_.

"So, how big are you?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Five meters."

Ludwig rolled his eyes. "Like I haven't heard that one before."

"Fine. 'Bout nine inches."

Ludwig snorted. "Oh come on, you're—okay, you're big, but you're not that big."

"Am too! …I mean, maybe it's closer to eight, but, somewhere 'round there…" he muttered.

"Right…"

Gilbert turned back to the porno and Ludwig went back to surreptitiously watching his brother. Gilbert was palming his balls now, rolling his hand from his sac up the underside of his length to the tip and back down. His head fell back for a moment, then came forward again.

Ludwig worked his shaft almost frantically, panting at seeing his brother like this. He was unconsciously leaning towards him in his chair. He only became aware of this when Gilbert leaned towards him as well, speaking over his shoulder; "How ya holdin' up? Finish line in sight?" Gilbert asked in a heavy voice, smirking.

Ludwig scoffed. "Hardly," he panted, and allowed himself to lean in an inch more, savoring the closeness of their heads. He could almost feel Gilbert's heat, and he was sure he smelled his scent—oh, that _scent_ …

Gilbert's head lolled back a bit, closer still. "Wonder who's gonna finish first," he taunted. "It's all about the endurance, y'know…" Ludwig could hear the building need in his voice.

"Hmph. I've got endurance." He tried to keep the strain out of his voice.

"Kesese, we'll see."

Gilbert kept his head there, closing his eyes as his hand continued to jerk, occasionally fingering around the head and slit. Ludwig's gaze followed the other hand as well, as it trailed restlessly over his thighs and across his chest, roaming under his shirt to rub his stomach, and suddenly deciding to reach up and pinch at his nipples, back arching into his hand.

Ludwig bit his lip, feasting his eyes on the pale expanse of taught stomach. He leaned his head in closer still.

The rhythm of Gilbert's hand on his long shaft was almost hypnotic. He wished that pale hand was on his own member, and that he could take his brother's cock in his own grasp. He imagined how that would feel, to touch Gilbert, for Gilbert to be the one bringing him closer and closer to his climax. He shuddered.

Ludwig glanced at his brother's face, only inches from his own now. His eyes were closed, worry-like need showing on his brow. His lips were parted. His pink, pink lips through which his breaths were coming in shallow puffs, shining with moisture from his tongue—they looked so soft… What would they be like against his own? _Oh, Gilbert…_

Ludwig leaned a little further. Should Gilbert open his eyes now he'd surely be shocked at how close they were. But Ludwig was loving the barely sensible heat coming off his brother's body as he touched himself, breathing in Gilbert's slightly musky, slightly sweet smell that reminded him of his own. They were so close, it was almost as if… they were _making love_. But oh, if he could just reach out and touch that smooth skin, taste those silken lips… _so close_ …

Gilbert eyes fluttered open and Ludwig flinched back, heart racing. But Gilbert hadn't seen. He was looking ahead. Biting his lip—his perfect, delicate lip—he leaned forward and grabbed two Kleenexes from their box, and handed one to Ludwig.

"Think you might be—needing this, mm, soon, little bro—sooner than me anyway." He chuckled.

Ludwig took the tissue shakily, still not recovered from the start Gilbert had given him. "We'll—hah—see about that."

Gilbert laughed breathily. "Well, I've—nn, been known to wear out, hah, the best, guys and girls. T-takes—experience…"

"Who says I don't h-have, mm, experience?"

"Kesese, yeah, you and—fff—y-your hand!"

"Bet you g-get more from your hand than—unn, any g-girl… or guy…"

"My hand's better than m-most girls and guys—oo, fuck…"

_I bet it is… Shit, don't think that… Oh God I wanna cum, Gilbert…_

Gilbert was pumping furiously now, only seconds away from release. Ludwig panted heavily, sliding to the side again, intoxicated by the sight of his brother so close to ecstasy, of his hand blurring along his member. His thoughts were hazy as he felt his own gut tightening and that terrible, wonderful heat building in his groin—it was Gilbert's hand stroking him, it was Gilbert making him cum—

"Aw, sh-shiiitt—" Gilbert's hand jerked at his cock as a thick gush of white fountained from the tip. He caught most of it in the tissue as it streamed down his length and over his hand.

The sight of his brother cumming nearly sent Ludwig over the edge. The flow of his hot seed—God, how would that taste, how would that feel running down his throat if he swallowed it like those twins had…

"Hunnh—fuuck…" He could feel it just behind some final barrier, about to burst—and he lost control in that moment of trying to climax. His head fell into Gilbert's shoulder, and the warm contact was enough. His back arched as he brought the tissue to the tip of his cock, catching his warm cum as it spurted out. "Oohhh…" He shuddered, and it was so, so nice to be close to Gilbert, to touch him…

"Uh, Lud? Can I… have my arm back?"

Ludwig opened his eyes, panting, and realized his head was resting fully on Gilbert's shoulder, forehead pressed against his neck. He sat up quickly, blushing furiously at his transgression. _Shit shit shit_ he had just practically thrown himself on his brother as he _orgasmed_ … That was not good.

"S-sorry! I—I—uh, I just… I, um…" _Fuck._ What could he say?

Gilbert laughed nervously. "Okay, Lud, well… just, y'know, if you ever do get that stick out of your ass enough to actually do this with other friends, maybe you oughtta put restraints on your chair or something, 'cause… leaning into your best friend's arm while you're cumming might, um, be misunderstood, if ya know what I mean."

Ludwig kept his eyes down, face burning hot. "Yeah, I know. Um—sorry."

"Kesese, whatever. Maybe I should be flattered," he teased as he got up. "Gonna wash my hands." He dropped his dirtied tissue into the waste bin beneath the desk before disappearing into his bathroom.

Ludwig stared at the Kleenex in the trashcan. The Kleenex with his brother's semen on it. He heard the sink come on in the bathroom, and, without thinking, he reached down and grabbed the tissue out of the trash and replaced it with his own, then shoved it in his pocket. His heart was racing as Gilbert walked back into the room.

"Sheesh, this thing's still going," he said, leaning over to turn off the video. "Guess it's for all the losers that take forever to get hard."

Ludwig made a noncommittal noise. "Um, I should get back. No offense, but I think studying with you isn't the most efficient method."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "You need to relax, bro. I bet that was good for ya, too. Masturbation relieves tension!" he exclaimed jokingly, squeezing his brother's shoulders.

Ludwig shivered at the sensation of his brother's fingers digging into his flesh. "Right, whatever," he mumbled, getting up to retrieve his backpack.

"Well, we should do something soon—Hey, what are you planning for your birthday?"

Shit. He kept on forgetting that was coming up. "Umm, dunno, I talked with my suitemates about just going to dinner or something."

"Before fall break?"

"Yeah… You can come, if you want," he added hesitantly.

"Sweet! Just let me know the plan. Oh, and hey, Alfred's having a party that week, I think it's supposed to be for Halloween but you should come if you're not having one of your own! A birthday's not a birthday without alcohol."

"I'll have to see how much work I have."

"Aw c'mon, you'll be done with that midterm, won't you? And it's right before break!"

"But there will be more midterms after that, Gilbert—"

"You deserve to celebrate, Lud. Relax a little. Just think about it, okay?"

"…Sure."

They went downstairs and Gilbert pulled him into a one-armed hug before seeing him out the door.

On his way back to his dorm, Ludwig's mind was swirling with midterms, parties, and the idea of hanging out with his brother. He was honestly quite busy, and he wasn't sure if it was a good idea to invite him to a birthday dinner with his suitemates… _But of course it's a good idea! He's your brother, Ludwig. He deserves to be there and it will be fine,_ he told himself. But still, the thought of seeing his brother at all made him simultaneously excited and uneasy.

By the time he reached his room, he had almost forgotten what he had in his pocket. But after he'd slung his bag down into its customary spot by his desk and sat back on his bed, the corner of the tissue poking out caught his eye. Slowly, he pulled it out and held it in his hand, examining it.

The cum was mostly dry now, but some globules still seemed sticky.

Ludwig blinked at it. This was his brother's cum, the very stuff he had imagined swallowing and filling him countless times over the past few weeks. And now here it was, in his hand…

He brought the tissue close to his face, smelling it. There wasn't much of a scent, but Ludwig thought he could still sense something vaguely bodily, salty, about it.

…This was what he wanted, wasn't it? This essence, to know, to taste, to feel…?

He pressed the crumpled Kleenex over his nose and mouth. It was hard to tell, but he thought he could feel some cool moisture against part of his skin.

He hesitated for a moment, then, slowly, poked his tongue out until it hit the soft paper. Nothing but dryness. He moved the tissue down, sliding the tip of his tongue gingerly along it, until it met something viscous. He shuddered. Gilbert's, seed…

He couldn't stop himself. He closed his lips around the sticky substance and sucked delicately, trying not to get wet tissue stuck on his tongue. There wasn't enough for it to taste like much, and most of it was so soaked into the Kleenex he wasn't sure he was really getting any, but he hoped, perversely, that he was ingesting some of his brother's sperm, his sperm with its DNA that was closer to Ludwig's own than anyone else's in the world.

 _Sick, sick, this is so sick—what am I doing?_ he thought, but he kept the tissue pressed to his mouth as he lay back against his pillow.

He was sure there was some musky, salty, Gilbert-y scent on that Kleenex that he was breathing in, and it was intoxicating. As he filled his lungs hungrily, his free hand grazed over his torso and down to his crotch.

 _Oh God this is so wrong… Can I actually do this?_ He fumbled with his jeans and reached in to grasp his already stirring member.

_Yes, I can._

Ludwig huffed and panted his way to orgasm for the second time that day, catching Gilbert's whispered name in the tissue stained with his essence. He didn't take it from his mouth until just before he came, when he held it over his cock to catch his own seed, mingling his essence with his brother's.

He didn't waste any time in wiping himself up, and after touching his tongue briefly to the tissue once more, to see how Gilbert's and his semen tasted together, he promptly went to the bathroom and flushed the Kleenex down the toilet.

He washed his hands, splashed his face. He looked at himself in the mirror.

Was this the face of a pervert? Of a potential criminal? Because incest was, after all, a crime, not to mention a revolting taboo.

Somehow, Ludwig felt like he was already a criminal. A rapist. He had committed a sexual act in which his brother was physically involved, vicariously through his semen, without his consent. Was it really wrong to get off to someone's byproduct, their actual bodily material, without their knowledge?

How real was this, anyway, if Ludwig was the only one who would ever know? His own little, secret reality. If he didn't share it with anyone else, if it didn't affect anything else, did it really matter?

He thought of his brother's playful smirk, his fond smile, of his casually given bro-hug as Ludwig went out the door.

Feeling very empty, he went back to his desk and pulled out his textbook again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next part: Lud does a lot of introspection. Just when he thinks he might have himself figured out? Surprise! Something he never expected happens. Make that two somethings.


	13. Chapter 9, Part 2

Ludwig did not understand what was happening to him. And so he did what he always did when he didn't understand something: research.

He started with the internet. "Consensual homosexual sibling incest" and "I want to have sex with my brother" were only two of the many phrases he tried typing into search engines.

Then he went to the library and checked out the only two books it had in the family psychology section with any mention of sibling incest.

He scoured psychological reports, but they seemed to have little to do with his situation. There were fewer case studies of sibling incest than parental incest, and almost none of homosexual incest of any sort.

What he read about brothers and sisters was not encouraging. Almost every incident reported indicated parental neglect and emotional instability on the part of the siblings.

Was he emotionally unstable? He thought he had always been a fairly level-headed guy, even if he was easily annoyed and could lose his patience with people. And his father, while a busy man and even more sedate than Ludwig, had always made sure to care for his sons and even express affection, as awkward as it was for him. Ludwig had never felt unloved or neglected. Sure, he hadn't grown up with a mother around, but most children of a single parent didn't turn to incest as a means of coping! So what was his excuse?

Had he always been like this? Had he always loved Gilbert more deeply than a brother should and was only now recognizing it for what it was? Ludwig almost hoped that that was the case, though he had no way of knowing for sure. If that were true, though, then it would mean that the manga, the doujinshi, and the fanfictions that he still indulged in for hours on end were only a trigger for something already within him, that they weren't insidious seeds of depravity he had planted himself and knowingly cultivated. He didn't want to believe that his new favorite pastime was the source of his vile desire.

How could it be, anyway? Ludwig had seen the disclaimers of other fans and the angry rants about how just because they read or wrote about incest didn't mean that they were into it in real life or that they wanted to fuck their own brothers. Why was he different?

One possibility had crossed his mind that he preferred not to think about. From all he read about the traumatic childhoods of those involved in sibling incest, he had to wonder if a traumatic event had been the trigger of his own desire, if a lack of loving sexual contact had driven him to fantasize about the one person he knew loved him beyond a doubt, the person with whom he had always felt safe. Did he want to sleep with Gilbert only because Francis and Antonio had…

…Had what? Ludwig wasn't even sure any more. He had been a little vague when he told Gilbert about it, but that was only because it had been difficult to talk about it, not because he wasn't sure about what had happened. But now, after only a couple of weeks, things seemed blurrier, less real.

Francis' words kept running through his mind. Had he really… wanted it? Had he really moaned like a, a whore? Why couldn't he even remember if he'd had an erection? Had he kissed back? He could still almost feel those hot, wet mouths, claiming his own, touching the most private parts of his body. Had he, liked it?

In the shower he washed those places quickly. Sometimes he stole glances down at his body, and it seemed not his own somehow. When he touched himself he felt guilty, and not only because he was fantasizing about his brother, but because he was fantasizing about a guy. That meant he was gay. It never would have happened if he weren't.

Then maybe these fantasies about Gilbert were only the product of discovering an interest in other men? Perhaps that was it; all Ludwig had to do was wait until the right guy came along to take his attention off his brother. He had naturally just latched onto a familiar, loving male figure, but it would pass.

He hoped.

…

"Hey Ludwig, have you ever kissed a guy?"

Ludwig blinked at his roommate. "…What?"

"Have you ever kissed a guy?" Feliciano repeated cheerily.

"Wh— Why do you want to know that?"

Feliciano shrugged. "Just curious, I guess. I've never kissed a guy, just girls. But, you know, I feel like I should try kissing a guy, for the experience, right? You never know what kind of love is for you till you try them all, don't you think?"

"Uh… I don't know."

"So, you haven't kissed any guys either?"

"…Not exactly."

"Oh?"

"Uh, I have a lot of work to finish, Feli."

"Oh, right, sorry."

Ludwig turned back to his laptop.

So, his roommate wanted to kiss a guy.

"Hey Luddy, what restaurant are you thinking of for your birthday? Because I know a really amazing Italian place not too far from here. It specializes in pasta! They hand-roll it right there in their rustic Tuscan kitchen! And then—"

"Okay! Yeah, sounds great, we can go there. Now I have to get work done."

"Yay! Oh, you'll love it Luddy, I promise it'll be the best pasta you've ever tasted!"

Ludwig sighed as Feliciano continued to ramble. It never ceased to amaze him how passionate Feliciano could be on the subject of food.

"Yeah, yeah…" he muttered under his breath.

…

Sometimes, Ludwig was sure it couldn't be wrong.

He had come across several discussion boards in his searches, and while some posts were plain creepy, some hateful and ignorant, others seemed to be amazingly rational. Several even brought up the fact that most of the arguments used against incest were the same as those used against homosexuality, which Ludwig had never really considered before. He was encouraged by the fact that even some people who said they were disgusted by the idea were open minded enough to go through point by point arguments of why it was not wrong.

It wasn't natural? Well, it did occur occasionally in nature, if that's what people meant. And besides, was something immoral just because it was not natural? Plenty of unnatural things were beneficial, and plenty of natural things could be malignant.

It increased risks of genetic diseases? Normal couples carrying recessive genes didn't have restricted reproduction rights… not that that applied to him and Gilbert anyway, but that argument smacked of Eugenics. And with modern birth control, sex didn't necessarily mean procreation anyway.

It produced gut reactions of disgust? So did eating vegetables for some people. Taste, just like Kirkland had said.

Consensual incest—truly consensual incest, with no coercion involved—was a victimless crime. So why was it illegal? Why was it "immoral?"

Gross, Ludwig could understand. He had looked up the Westermarck Effect that Mathias had mentioned, and it seemed to suggest that humans had probably evolved with some sort of biological aversion to incest to avoid excessive inbreeding. Ludwig wasn't sure why that didn't seem to be working out for him personally, but that didn't make it wrong, just socially unacceptable, much as homosexuality had been not long ago. And evolution had given humans pinkies, too, which were obsolete apparently, as Gilbert had informed him once… though he wasn't sure that was the most relevant point.

Ludwig felt marginally better whenever he thought about things that way.

…

"So today we're talking about the greatest figure in English literature: the Dane. Being Danish alone makes Hamlet great, but there're a bunch of other reasons why he's cool, too," Mathias began, looking around at the members of the book club.

Ludwig thought he might have heard Berwald snort, but his face didn't reveal any emotion, so perhaps it had just been his imagination.

"So, Hamlet's considered by a lot of scholars to be pretty ahead of his time, espousing existentialist or even nihilistic views, and of course some see him as the perfect embodiment of Freud's Oedipal complex with all sorts of incestuous nastiness going around the court."

Ludwig's stomach fluttered the tiniest bit.

Mathias continued. "But it all depends on interpretation. So we're going to start with whatever quotes you guys picked out for discussion and what philosophical school of thought it fits in with. It's pretty surprising the range of philosophies this one text covers. So, who wants to start?"

Toris raised his hand tentatively. "Uh, I guess I'll go…"

"Great!" Mathias beamed.

"Okay, so, I chose the quote 'there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so,' and I think this is a good example of moral relativism, which is the belief that there are no universal ethics, because morality isn't objective; every moral judgment is the product of the norms of a particular group of people. Uh, this was a view that gained popularity in classical Athens through the sophists, but lots of more conservative thinkers mistrusted the sophists' rhetoric, and Plato's idea of the universal Forms was kind of his attempt to restore what he saw as a more 'right' way of thinking. So, moral relativism is very anti-Platonic."

"Thanks Toris! Great background and explanation. So, why don't we think about what this quote means in this context, and whether we can find other instances of moral relativism throughout the text?"

Ludwig didn't listen too much to the rest of the discussion. _Nothing is either good or bad, but thinking makes it so…_

Could it be true? Plato disagreed, but Plato wasn't always right. After all, Ludwig had been doing a lot of thinking recently, and was finding many of the views he'd always held, about relationships, about right and wrong, were being challenged.

So maybe, like some of the people on those discussion boards said, it wasn't wrong at all.

…

Sometimes, Ludwig was sure it had to be wrong.

What the hell was he thinking? Sleep with his brother? How could he do that, how could that ever be okay, after all they'd shared for his entire lifetime, the trust, the support, the unconditional love, without the stress and strain of anything sexual ever interfering?

There were other articles and posts he came across which left him, frankly, feeling like shit. They would rationally go about explaining how the comparison between incest and homosexuality was not a valid one. Sure, disgust or the Bible's say-so was not enough to condemn the act, but there were other reasons that didn't apply to homosexuality that did apply to incest.

The genetics argument Ludwig didn't agree with, and it didn't even stand in his case. But one article had compared consensual incest to crossing the line with friends, something that could ruin once strong relationships. The bottom line was, incest destroyed relationships, and it destroyed families.

If he had sex with Gilbert, he could never go back. He could never just have a brother again.

What if they "broke up?" What if, years from now, one of them wanted to go back to just being brothers? It wouldn't be the same. And what if people found out? What if… what if their _father_ found out? It would kill him. His sons were all he had. Ludwig hated himself for wanting something so bad that would hurt his father so bad.

And that was only if he got that far. More likely was that Gilbert would reject him. At worst he would never want to see him again after such a betrayal, and at best things would be incredibly awkward between them. They would never be able to restore the ease and trust they had now.

No matter what happened, all he could see was his family crumbling apart, all because of him. Him and his selfish, sick desire.

One commenter had said, "If you really loved the person that way, you'd realize that the best thing for them would be to let it go."

After reading that, Ludwig rested his head in his hands and wished he could cry.

…

"I think by now you'll all know where I'm going with this. Before I jump the gun, would anyone like to make an observation on the role of books and reading in _Don Quixote_?" Professor Kirkland surveyed his class.

The girl next to Ludwig raised her hand. "Well, Don Quixote does have a pretty extensive library, and he goes mad because he's read too many books about knights-errant. He tries to be a chivalrous knight like in the books but in the end he can't make the fantasy a reality."

"Exactly. What have I told you before? You are what you read—or are you? Here, we have a case of someone actively trying to be what they read, but in the end, is Don Quixote really successful or not? The books seem almost like a sinister force of some sort; after all, they apparently have the power to drive an old man mad."

Mathias raised his hand. "Yeah, but, would that really happen to just anybody? I mean, the guy's pretty old, maybe already losing it a bit, so he'd be more susceptible to that sort of thing than the average person who just likes to read."

"Well, that's a very 21st century, psychological analysis sort of view. I think the better question to ask is, what is Cervantes trying to say by making his main character an addled old man? Is he really saying he's a unique case, or is he making a comment on the inner nature of book-lovers generally? I like to think I'm a tea-loving English gentleman, but am I really a gaunt old windmill-fighting Spaniard according to Cervantes, because I love to read? But let's leave me out of this.

"In any case, you do bring up an interesting issue, though, Mathias, and that is the dilemma of whether the books are really the source of the mental illness or if they just help it along. Do people have a predisposition for overindulging in fantasy that leads them to read, and then as a result of reading they fulfill their pre-existing potential for fantasy, or can reading really introduce entirely new, corrupting forces to unsuspecting people? That's certainly something worth thinking about as you continue to read this book. Maybe an essay topic, too."

Mathias raised his hand again. "But why would Cervantes be criticizing books? He's writing them himself!"

Kirkland grinned. "Ah yes. Does anyone have an answer to Mathias' question?"

The class was silent for a moment. Then, the girl next to Ludwig raised her hand again.

"Yes, Angela?"

"What about the authorship controversy you talked about before? Someone published an unauthorized sequel, so maybe Cervantes isn't warning about books in general, but just… the wrong books or something?"

Kirkland nodded. "That's an interesting point, which begs the question, what constitutes a right or wrong book? Is it just a question of authorship, meaning, is it wrong to write a story about someone else's characters? Or does it have to do with intent? Is Cervantes criticizing those who are just churning out mass-entertainment as opposed to literature? Perhaps that's what all of Don Quixote's tales of knights-errant are supposed to represent: thoughtless mass-entertainment. But then, what makes Cervantes' writing any better than what his main character reads? Any ideas? Yes, Mathias."

"Well I think it's a matter of self-awareness. Cervantes' isn't trying to just write an escapist fantasy, he's examining the way that reading actually affects people, which must have been especially important in his time, just like media studies now, because books were the new big thing with the printing industry booming across Europe."

"An important point. One must always remember the historical context of a text. So, yes, that's quite possible; perhaps Cervantes is an ironically popular literary snob. Well, not really, but in light of the humongous and growing popularity of books in his time, perhaps he simply felt it necessary to write this as a warning of the dangers of not being able to distinguish fantasy from reality. Maybe he's saying 'Look, books are all jolly good, but, don't get too carried away thinking you can be like the characters you read about! There's a reason that they're fictional.'"

_Well, shit_ , thought Ludwig. Was that his problem? Was he missing something really basic and obvious that should have kept his interest in fictional incest separate from his reality?

Or no, maybe…

Ludwig raised his hand.

"Yes, Ludwig?"

"Well, just because Don Quixote isn't really able to be what he reads does it mean that Cervantes thinks that's the way it should be? Rather than a commentary on people with too much imagination, couldn't it be a commentary on the society that doesn't allow Don Quixote to live his fantasy? It seems like he would have been pretty happy running around like a knight if people just accepted it. It's only problematic because of the way closed-minded people react to it and make fun of him." He shifted in his seat, feeling unusually warm.

Kirkland raised his eyebrows in an impressed look. "An intriguing possibility. Why don't you keep an analytical eye out as you finish the book so we can come back to that?"

Ludwig nodded, his heart beating a tick faster than usual. At least his idea hadn't been shut down.

After Kirkland had dismissed the class, he called Ludwig over as the others filed out of the room.

Ludwig swallowed. He hadn't spoken to his professor one on one since the… incident, with Francis.

"Ludwig, how are you doing?" he asked cheerily.

"Um, fine, thank you."

"Jolly good, jolly good…"

Ludwig was finding it hard to believe he actually knew someone who used the phrase "jolly good."

Professor Kirkland cleared his throat. "Yes, well, er, I know it's probably none of my business, but… you know Francis Bonnefoy?"

Ludwig tensed. "I… know him."

"Ah, a former student of mine. But that day I saw you in the hallway, I, er, couldn't help but notice you looked a little, distressed perhaps. I just wanted to check with you, see if everything was alright?"

Ludwig attempted to force the corners of his mouth up into a smile. "Oh, no, everything's fine, thanks, professor." At least it was semi-true, since he hadn't heard from Francis in a while.

"Well, that's good to hear. I know it's not my place to pry, anyway. But you know, if you ever… need them, there are resources available to you."

"Yes, I know, thanks."

Kirkland hesitated a moment. "And Ludwig—my door is always open. If you need."

A more genuine smile crossed his lips momentarily. "Thank you, professor."

His teacher seemed embarrassed, keeping his eyes down. "Of course. See you soon, Ludwig," he said briskly.

Ludwig left and went downstairs, thinking of what Kirkland had said. Perhaps his teacher really did like him.

"Oh, hey!" said a girl's voice as he came out the door.

Ludwig looked up and saw the girl he had sat next to smiling at him. Shoot, what was her name again?

"Oh, hi," he said, trying to be friendly.

"Uh, your name's… Ludwig? Right?"

"Yes."

"Oh phew, I'm not very good with names. I wanted to make sure I knew yours before I embarrassed myself though. Thought I ought to know yours since we've ended up sitting next to each other for the past few classes!" She smiled at him.

Ludwig smiled back guiltily. They'd been sitting next to each other for the past few classes? He hadn't noticed. "Uh, actually… sorry, could you tell me your name again?"

The girl laughed. "Oh, of course! I'm Angela, but you can call me Angie."

"Angie, okay. Nice to meet you, officially. Uh, where's that accent from? I'm not sure I recognize it."

"Haha, you probably don't, it's from Seychelles! Little islands off the African coast, in case you didn't know. Lots of people don't."

"Oh, wow."

Angela beamed at him. "Well, I gotta go, but see you later Ludwig!"

"Yeah, see you later."

Angela went off in one direction, Ludwig in the other, but he didn't get far before he heard someone else call his name.

He turned to see Mathias coming towards him. "Were you just talking to Angie?"

"Yeah."

"Damn, you lucky bastard! I haven't been able to get her to look twice at me all semester. She's a hard catch from what I hear, but she looks totally into you."

"Uh—what?"

Mathias looked at him and burst out laughing. "Oh man, you should see your face! Dude, are you really that clueless?"

Ludwig could feel a blush rising in his cheeks. "Um, I…"

"Or…" Mathias' brow furrowed. "Uh, if ya don't mind my asking, are you… into…" He nodded his head in the direction Angie had gone and wiggled his eyebrows meaningfully. "You know, girls? Or not? I mean, it's totally cool, man, if you're not, just… wondering…"

Ludwig stared at him. _Shit shit shit what do I say?_ "O-o-of course I like girls!" Why did Mathias think he was gay? Was it something he did?

Mathias looked at him skeptically for a moment, then shrugged. "Okay man, whatever you say. But anyway, if you um, aren't intent on pursuing our class hottie, just lemme know, 'kay?" He winked and walked off.

Ludwig stood there a moment, utterly flustered. Had Angela been hitting on him or something, and he had been totally oblivious the whole time? And moreover, would he want to… do stuff, with her?

He thought about it for a moment. She was pretty, but it was almost weird to think about… well, someone other than his brother. Especially a girl.

Frowning to himself, he headed back to his dorm.

…

Ludwig's phone rang. He checked the caller ID: Dad.

"Hi Dad."

"Hello, Ludwig. You said you'd call."

"Yeah, sorry, things are getting pretty busy." _Doesn't help that I stay up almost all night reading about incest, fictional and otherwise._

"Hm, well, I just wanted to talk to you about break."

"Okay."

"I already told your brother, and I think he might have something in mind, but I'll only be able to see you the first night you're home. A last minute business trip has come up, and I can't say no to this one. Sorry about that. But I'll try to come visit, maybe, after break."

"Oh, alright. Yeah, that'd be great."

"So you might want to make some plans with Gilbert, it'll be just you two. I'm sure you'll find something to do with yourselves though."

Ludwig's stomach clenched with apprehension. "Yeah, yeah." He swallowed. His mouth felt dry. But he was also… excited.

"Are you doing anything for your birthday?"

"Uh, just dinner with Gilbert and my suitemates."

"Alright, well, have a good time. I'll call you then."

"Okay. Bye Dad."

"Goodbye Ludwig. Talk to you soon."

…

Ludwig's birthday was uneventful, but pleasant. He went with Gilbert, Feliciano, Kiku, and Herakles to the place Feliciano had suggested, and it was true, the pasta was delicious.

He found himself getting irrationally annoyed at how much attention Gilbert was paying to Feliciano, though. He decided he needed to focus on someone other than Gilbert for tonight. There was the quiet duo of Kiku and Herakles, but they were together, so that wouldn't be right. And that left Feliciano.

Throughout dinner, Feliciano did the most talking, followed by Gilbert. Ludwig tried not to look at his brother too much, instead following Feliciano's lively gestures and expressions.

It had taken him a while to get used to the Italian; he just couldn't understand how such a person could actually _exist_. But he had realized over the past several weeks that Feliciano was completely authentic. Completely ridiculous, but completely authentic. He supposed he ought to appreciate that.

And he couldn't shake the memory of their recent brief conversation. Feliciano had never kissed a guy, but… he wanted to. He seemed to like girls a lot, and he was affectionate with everyone, but Ludwig still wondered, as he had since before the dance: was his roommate gay? And was his affection toward Ludwig just Feliciano being Feliciano, or could it be something more?

Ludwig's eyes still drifted to Gilbert despite his efforts. His brother was simply magnetic; the low lighting of the restaurant really suited him, making his eyes dark and unknowable even as he smiled and laughed—but every time Ludwig caught himself thinking about these things, he turned his attention back to Feliciano, and noticed how his eyes smiled as much as his mouth, and that his delicate hands were just as important for expressing himself as his words, and that he almost seemed to make obscene love to his spaghetti as he ate it.

For someone who seemed so simple, Feliciano was a goddamned _mystery_ to Ludwig.

After dinner they went back to the suite to give presents. Kiku gave Ludwig a box of pocky sticks. The card read "so you can play the pocky game with someone special," whatever that was supposed to mean. He'd ask later. Kiku also wrote that he had another doujinshi for him in his room, but that he would give it to him in private, which made Ludwig blush. Herakles got him a few pornos on dvd—apparently he had less discretion than his boyfriend. He said he'd heard he liked those things a lot. Gilbert cracked up at that, making Ludwig blush even more. And Feliciano, inexplicably, gave him a pair of red underwear, saying "You seem like someone who likes underwear a lot!" Gilbert sniggered.

At that point Ludwig was dreading what Gilbert would get him. He breathed in relief when his brother handed him piece of paper with a smile, and the paper didn't have any lewd pictures on it. Instead, there was a picture of them when Ludwig was ten and Gilbert was thirteen, standing in front of their favorite vacation cabin they used to rent during summers.

He blinked at the picture. "Uh, thanks?"

"Kesese, we're going there Luddy! You think I would just give you a picture for your birthday?"

Ludwing blinked again. "When?"

"For break! I thought it'd be a nice getaway for us to go back to the old place, since Dad's not gonna be around and all. Just for the weekend."

"Wait, but—how? Did you rent it?"

"Yup! Reservation's made and everything! Happy birthday, bro."

"Wow…" Ludwig looked back at the picture. He was actually looking forward to this. "Thank you, Gilbert."

"Kesese, not a problem! Looking forward to it."

…

The night before they were to leave for break, Ludwig found himself dragged along to Alfred's Halloween party against his better judgment.

Gilbert had chosen his costume for him: a Roman general. The tunic was a little on the short side for Ludwig's tastes, but Gilbert had insisted he should show off his muscular legs. Ludwig didn't complain after that.

Gilbert had volunteered to dress in rags and chains and go as Ludwig's "slave," and convinced Feliciano and Kiku to do the same (Herakles had preferred to stick with his originally planned costume, which looked like something out of Aladdin). Ludwig had been slightly bewildered by that, asking "Wouldn't that be a little, you know, weird?" but Gilbert had insisted it would be funny, and it would give him the chance to show off his legs as well. Gilbert's ragged tunic was even shorter than Ludwig's. Ludwig didn't complain any more about that either.

Alfred's small apartment was crammed with noisy people in all manner of costumes. The host himself greeted them enthusiastically in a Batman outfit. Gilbert slipped away to talk to his boyfriend, who looked to be dressed as a farmer. Feliciano and Herakles decided to start out with shots, and Kiku followed Herakles.

Ludwig recognized some of the people from his book club and went to join them. Mathias and Berwald were dressed as pirates, and there was a third pirate in an over-the-top scary mask whom he didn't recognize as Tino until after he'd already been speaking with him for two minutes. Felix was also there with Toris, both dressed in some sort of princely costumes with card suits on them—Toris' had clubs, and Felix's, of course, had hearts.

Mathias handed him a beer, which he sipped cautiously. He planned on limiting himself tonight; he had to be ready to go home tomorrow, and if Gilbert wasn't good to drive, he had better be, and he didn't exactly trust his brother's judgment.

He glanced over to where Gilbert stood in the corner. He wasn't sure how many drinks Gilbert had had yet, but he was smirking with his arm around Matt's shoulder. And then, Gilbert planted one right on his boyfriend's lips.

Ludwig's eyebrow twitched. His chest ached. But he knew it was stupid to wish himself in Matt's place; even if his brother ever did kiss him (he could only dream), it would have to be in the privacy of a bedroom or isolated place, never in the open, surrounded by their peers.

Ludwig pursed his lips and turned away. He hadn't been listening to the conversation around him, and suddenly the little group seemed to have broken up and drifted towards opposite ends of the room.

He stared down at his beer. _Stupid, stupid idiot. What am I thinking? Go talk to friends and stop obsessing over your brother!_

A while later Feliciano found him again, followed by Herakles and a surprisingly drunk Kiku. They convinced him to dance for a while, though he didn't feel nearly drunk enough and had to keep detaching himself from Feliciano, who apparently could be quite touchy-feely when tipsy.

He stole occasional glances over at Gilbert and Matthew in the corner, until one time he looked and saw that they had disappeared. He scanned the room half-heartedly, but didn't find them. Oh well, they had probably gone back to one of their rooms to have sex or something. Ludwig had to admit he felt disappointed, but it was only to be expected, really. He couldn't hold it against his sweet-natured RA.

He bumped into someone and muttered a quick apology before realizing it was Roderich. "Oh, Roderich, hi."

"Hello, Ludwig." Roderich smiled.

"Um… are you wearing a dress?"

"It's not a dress! I'm wearing pants underneath!"

Ludwig gave the rather feminine outfit a skeptical look. "Um… okay."

"Liz made me wear it," he huffed, indicating his girlfriend who was dancing beside him.

"Hi Lud!" Liz waved at him as she continued to move to the music. Together, the pair looked like some sort of historical cross-dressing couple.

"Have either of you seen my brother? Did he leave already?"

They both shook their heads. Then a voice behind him said, "I have. He went into the other room to do drugs with my brother."

Ludwig turned, confused, and found Bella standing behind him in a Little Red Riding Hood costume.

He froze. The last time he had seen her had been…

Bella surveyed him. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Ludwig gulped. "Uh, sure."

He reluctantly followed her away from his friends over to a corner of the room away from the music speakers. She turned to face him again.

"I need to know what happened."

"E-excuse me?"

"Between you and Toni."

Ludwig forgot to breathe for a moment. How did she even know—? "Wh—… Why do you need to know that?"

"So something did happen."

Ludwig didn't respond at first. Then he frowned. "I don't think that's any of your business."

"None of my business? You don't think it's my business if my boyfriend's cheating on me with other men?"

Ludwig blinked. "Boyfriend?"

"Yes, boyfriend! Antonio is my boyfriend! Or at least, was… I don't know anymore." Bella sighed in frustration.

"I… I didn't know."

"So what happened, then?"

When Ludwig didn't answer, she spoke again, more softly. "Toni says nothing happened. But your brother… I heard your brother accusing him of, things. So I need to know, you see? I need to know if I can trust him or not. So, I think it would best for everyone if we're just up front about it."

Ludwig looked at her. She seemed so determined, but underneath that, maybe… hurt? He couldn't quite tell.

Ludwig rubbed his lips together nervously. What could he say? That they almost had sex? That he had given him a blow job? That her former boyfriend had, maybe… done things, that he hadn't wanted done to him? She probably wouldn't believe him if he told the truth anyway… not that he even knew what the truth was anymore. The whole thing was so mixed up.

"I'm sorry, I can't—" he started, but couldn't continue. He glanced at Bella's disappointed glare. He took a deep breath and tried again. "We… we didn't, have… I mean, or—I—" He sighed. "If it's trust you're wondering about… I don't know. He didn't mean any of it, though; he was high and, and he doesn't remember—" _And why am I defending him?_ Ludwig swallowed. "I— I— I'm sorry, okay? I didn't—I don't think anyone really knew what was going on."

Ludwig dropped his eyes to the floor. _Why am I telling her this? I don't even know her!_

Bella was silent for a moment. "I see."

"Um, I… have to go…" Ludwig mumbled, turning to leave.

"Well, if you're wondering where your brother is, looks he just came back." Bella pointed across the crowd towards the hallway, where Gilbert and Tim were eagerly rejoining the crowd.

_Oh shit_ , Ludwig thought. He had forgotten what Bella had said about Gilbert's whereabouts.

Tim had an uncharacteristic smile on his face and immediately started dancing enthusiastically. The sight was made all the stranger by his wolf ears and tails—apparently he and his sister had a theme going.

Gilbert, however, was grinning like a maniac and jumping up and down.

Ludwig stared in mortification as his brother flailed about. "Uh, Bella… what did your brother give him?"

Bella shrugged. "Who knows? You can never tell with Tim."

"I think… I think I should go take care of him."

"Well, good luck. And, Ludwig—I just want you to know, I don't hold anything against you." She tried to smile, and Ludwig tried to smile back.

He made his way through the tightly-packed bodies on the dance floor, watching as Gilbert tried dancing with and even hugging random people standing nearby.

Finally, Ludwig was able to close a hand around his brother's arm and pull him forcefully towards a couch, giving an apologetic smile to those who had been near his brother. They looked both amused and bewildered by his behavior.

"Okay, Gilbert, we're going to sit down for a while on this couch."

"Yeah! Awesome!"

Ludwig placed his brother down next to him. Immediately Gilbert started wriggling in his seat.

"But I wanna dance! Luu-uud, come dance with me!"

Ludwig had to keep an arm around his brother's shoulders to prevent him from getting away.

"I don't think that's the best idea right now. Let's just sit."

Gilbert shifted in his seat some more, tapping his foot and grinding his teeth.

"Gilbert, stop grinding your teeth."

"Huh?"

"You're grinding your teeth. Stop it."

"Oh, yeah…" But Gilbert continued to grind his teeth, bouncing almost in time with the music. Then he turned to Ludwig.

"Luddyyy!" He beamed as if seeing him for the first time, and suddenly threw his arms around him.

"Oof—Gilbert—"

"Lud, it's so good to see you! Oh my God, this is so awesome… Aw, I love you Lud! I love everyone! I LOVE EVERYONE IN THIS ROOM! …Man, I'm rolling BALLS… kesese…"

_Rolling_ … That meant Ecstasy, right?

Gilbert let his head fall against Ludwig's shoulder. "Luu-uud, you're the best…" he said, snuggling up to his brother.

Ludwig looked at him, completely bemused. What should he do? He couldn't deny he rather liked the position they were in, but he had no idea what was going on with Gilbert or what he might do next.

"Uh, Gilbert, where's Matthew?"

"Mattie? He went home! Heehee, I love him too…"

Ludwig ignored the uncomfortable tightening in his stomach. "Oh, okay…"

Gilbert's hands were restless. He kept petting Ludwig's arm and caressing his fake armor, staring at it with glazed eyes. "Wow, your costume is so awesome! Mmm, wow…"

His hands moved up to Ludwig's head, one petting his cheek while the other ran through his hair, staring at it in fascination.

Ludwig was starting to feel much too hot. His skin tingled under his brother's soft fingertips. They were really so close together…

"Wow, it's so soft! Kesese, cute cheeks…" Gilbert giggled. "And how do you get your hair like this? Woah…"

Ludwig swallowed. Then, quite suddenly, Gilbert decided to crawl into Ludwig's lap.

Ludwig sat, beyond flustered, with his brother straddling him, both hands combing through his hair, his face inches away.

"It feels so nice, Lud…" Gilbert said with a vague smile on his face.

On the one hand, Ludwig didn't want this to stop. Not for the world. But on the other… his brother was drugged. This didn't mean anything, it was false and Ludwig would feel guilty for taking advantage of his brother's impaired state. And besides, people could see them here! What would they think?

Right on cue, Elizaveta appeared, looking down at Gilbert concernedly. "Is he okay?" she mouthed to Ludwig.

Ludwig nodded in assurance.

"Um, I can take him off your hands if you need…"

"No, really, it's okay, I've got this." He smiled nervously.

"Alright…" Elizaveta gave Gilbert another skeptical look before moving off.

Gilbert hadn't ceased feeling up his scalp the entire time. "Lud, you feel so good…"

Ludwig nearly choked. "Wh-what?"

"Your hair feels so good!" Gilbert fell forward, nuzzling his face against Ludwig's and rubbing his cheek like a cat.

A slight strained noise escaped from the back of Ludwig's throat. "G-Gilbert… stop…" he complained half-heartedly. This… was not acceptable.

But Gilbert's hands were sending shivers down his spine as they touched along his scalp and sensitive neck, and the warmth and nearness of Gilbert's face, body, legs, were all making Ludwig's stomach surge with each tiny shift of position.

He glanced nervously around the room. No one seemed to be paying them any attention, as far as he could tell in the dim lighting. Thank God.

"Uh, Gilbert, maybe you shouldn't…"

Gilbert's face was in front of his, eyes almost completely lidded, hazy smile still plastered on those lips. His hands were smoothing down Ludwig's hair all the way to his neck. He leaned in again, still smiling, and rubbed his nose and forehead against his brother's, humming contentedly. Ludwig could feel his hot breath against his lips.

Ludwig shuddered. He could barely breathe. "G-gilbert, I—"

His words were prevented from escaping his mouth by something very soft, and very wet, pressing against it.

Ludwig's mind went blank. He had no idea how many seconds it took him to fully realize that his brother was _kissing_ him.

His mouth was slack in shock, allowing Gilbert's tongue—so soft, so smooth—to slip inside, sliding around Ludwig's tongue and teeth haphazardly.

Oh, god… his brother… tasted so _good_. Like most kisses, there was an almost surprising lack of flavor, but then there was something, almost sweet, lingering beneath. Oh _god_ , that moist, hot, soft, soft mouth enveloping his own… it was _Gilbert's_ , it really truly was… and he didn't want it to ever stop.

Ludwig was on the verge of letting his eyes fall closed and suckling on that deliciously supple probing muscle when suddenly, it was gone, and Gilbert was being forcibly pulled off of him.

Dazed and tempted to whine in complaint, Ludwig looked up and saw a fuming Elizaveta gripping Gilbert by the shoulders. Remembering where he was, he quickly pulled himself from his stupor and tried to look properly shocked.

Elizaveta was screaming Gilbert's ear off. "Just what the HELL do you think you're doing to your LITTLE BROTHER? You SICK PERVERT—GAH, IDIOT! What the fuck is WRONG with you? Go home Gilbert, you're way too FUCKING drugged up!"

Gilbert stood there limply. "Huh?" He giggled. "Why are you so angry? Liz… you're my best friend, it's okay…"

He tried to hug her, but she pushed him off. "Ugh, you disgust me sometimes, Gilbert Beilschmidt."

A hand touched Ludwig's shoulder. He looked up and was surprised to see Roderich standing by.

"Ahem, are you… alright?"

Ludwig nodded dumbly. He felt lightheaded, tingly.

"He just, gets like that, you know. I'm sorry it had to be you though. You're sure you're alright?"

"Uh, yeah, I—I mean, yes, I know, he's high, I think I'll just take him home."

"Good idea."

Ludwig realized he was shaking slightly. He rose unsteadily to his feet and put an arm around Gilbert's shoulders, pulling him away from his enraged ex-girlfriend.

"It's alright, Liz, I'm fine. I'm just going to take him home."

"Okay… You're sure you don't need help?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine, thanks. I'll see you when you get back, I guess. I'll stay with him till then, make sure he doesn't do anything else stupid."

"If you're sure. So sorry about that, Ludwig."

"Um, don't worry about it, really, I know it was just… well, you know, but, ah, anyway, see you."

They got several curious glances as Ludwig assisted Gilbert to the door. He was sure he heard a few murmurs of "Gilbert was kissing his brother?" and "Holy shit!" and "Dude, that's not okay…"

Ludwig was glad to get out of the building, but shivered against the cold night air in his flimsy costume. They passed several other groups of drunken revelers in ridiculous outfits as they made their way to Gilbert's house. Gilbert, luckily, was cooperative, except his occasional attempts to touch his brother's face or stop and stare up at the sky, exclaiming, "Look at the STARS! Holy fuck!"

Eventually Ludwig got him home and upstairs to his room.

"Luuud why did we leave the party? I wanna dance some more, let's put on music."

"No, Gilbert, we're not putting on—"

But his brother had already started dancing without the music. He kicked about randomly in the center of the room before flopping down on his bed, then immediately springing back up.

"Oh my God! I just remembered!"

"Remembered what?" Ludwig questioned hesitantly.

Gilbert rushed to his desk, flinging open several drawers. "I—have—HIGHLIGHTERS!" He held up a green and pink highlighter in triumph.

Ludwig watched, dumbstruck, as Gilbert grabbed a textbook on his desk, flipped to a random page, and started scribbling furiously with the pink highlighter.

"…Gilbert?"

"Yeah?"

"What… are you doing? That's your Earth Science textbook."

"Oh, I fucking hate that class! Fucking science requirement." He capped the pink highlighter decisively and started coloring with the green one. "I'm making it pretty, see?"

Ludwig facepalmed.

He watched Gilbert, intent on his coloring. _Why did you kiss me?_ he wanted to ask. But he couldn't.

After a minute more Ludwig decided to stop Gilbert before he ruined his whole textbook.

"Okay, Gilbert, put those down."

"Wait a sec. I have to finish this."

"It looks finished to me."

He gently pried the book from his brother's hands. He glanced at it. "Wait, Gilbert, is this—this is a rental!"

But Gilbert wasn't listening. He had gotten up from his chair and was rubbing his hands over his face repeatedly, grinding his teeth again and making a strange humming noise almost like a groan.

"Hey, hey, take it easy…" Ludwig went to his brother, leaving the ruined textbook rental on the desk. He placed a hand on Gilbert's back and guided him to the bed, making him lie down. "Just stay here, okay? I'm going to get you water."

He filled a cup in the bathroom and gave it to Gilbert, but had trouble getting him to drink it, as he kept squirming around.

Eventually, Gilbert downed most of the water, and Ludwig set it aside.

"Oh my God… my bed is SO COMFY! Heh, wow… mmm…" Gilbert rolled over and rubbed his face against the pillow, pulling at the sheets. "So smooth…" he cooed, stroking his cheek with his cover.

Ludwig looked down at his brother, who was lost in his own personal bliss. Was this really the boy that had kissed him not half an hour ago? It had felt so perfect, so sweet… He wanted nothing more than to feel that again.

Ludwig sighed. Gilbert wasn't in his right mind. He would never do that sober. Never. He had to get that through his mind.

As exquisite as that fleeting kiss had been, he almost wished it had never happened, that he had never tasted the heaven that he was forbidden from entering again.

"Ludwiiig, come here!" Gilbert held out his hands towards him.

Ludwig leaned in tentatively, stomach fluttering.

Gilbert moved his hands up Ludwig's arms and started stroking his face again.

Ludwig's eyes fell closed. His brother's hands…

Gilbert giggled. "Luu-uud, touch me!"

Ludwig blinked at him. "Huh?"

Gilbert pulled Ludwig's hands down to his stomach and moved them in circles over his torso. "Oh my God, haha! Your hands feel amazing!"

Ludwig blushed, but he didn't remove his hands from his brother's body. Gingerly, he brought his hands up to his shoulders, over his firm chest, and back down to his stomach and hips, rubbing gentle circles and trying to keep his hands from shaking. All the while Gilbert smiled and hummed happily as he touched his own face and Ludwig's.

Ludwig wasn't sure who was enjoying this more: Gilbert, or him.

But Gilbert's enjoyment was innocent; Ludwig's was not, and as he lovingly caressed his brother's body, occasionally venturing to his bare collarbone and neck, he was wracked with guilt. Gilbert didn't understand what was really going on, and Ludwig was taking advantage.

Gilbert pulled him closer and began feeling his back and hair again. The combination of Gilbert's soft, warm hands and the sinful sounds escaping from his lips were almost too much to bear. Ludwig could feel warmth seeping into his abdomen. His breathing was shallow.

Gilbert was rubbing his body along his bed in a way that ought to be illegal. He pulled Ludwig's head to his chest, trailing his hands over his arms and back, humming and laughing the while.

Ludwig's cock twitched. His brother was so warm…

"Oh my _God_ ," Gilbert groaned, gripping a handful of Ludwig's hair.

Ludwig gasped. He felt a definite lump form under his tunic.

Gilbert laughed. "Oh man, this is better than SEX! Kesesese!"

Ludwig froze, face flushed, looking up through glazed eyes at his brother's obliviously happy expression, lost somewhere in the clouds.

He wrenched himself from Gilbert's grasp, and stood, panting and staring at him. He _couldn't_ let this go on.

"Hmmm? Where are you going? Come back!" Gilbert smiled at him lazily.

Just then there was a knock on the bedroom door. _Thank God._

"Ludwig? You there?" It was Elizaveta.

"Come in!" Ludwig called, his whole being flooding with relief, and perhaps, the tiniest bit of disappointment.

"How's he doing? Did you give him water? You can get really dehydrated on E," she said as she entered the room.

"Uh, yeah, I gave him some. He's uh, well…" he trailed off.

They looked over at Gilbert, who now had his face pressed into the wall and was rubbing his cheek and hands up and down it.

"…I see." Elizaveta pursed her lips. "Go on home, Ludwig, I've got it from here."

Ludwig swallowed. "Thanks, Liz."

He glanced back at his brother one more time before hurrying downstairs and out the door.

He had kissed him. He had _kissed_ him, he had kissed his brother…

It kept running through his head as he strode through the brisk night air towards his dorm. The touching, the kissing, more touching… the people staring at them.

But one question above all others stood out in his mind: what would Gilbert do when he found out? Because undoubtedly, even if he didn't remember it in the morning (and Ludwig hoped to high heaven that he didn't remember what had happened in his bedroom) people would talk, and Gilbert would find out that he had, indeed, kissed his dear little brother. Rather enthusiastically.

Mind churning, he finally reached his room, where he ripped off his costume down to the boxers and fell down onto his bed, thoroughly exhausted.

He stared at the ceiling for a while, thinking he might just be able to fall asleep, when the door banged open and a plastered Feliciano stumbled in.

"Luuud!—hic—There y'are!—hic—" He giggled, swaying as he made his way over to where Ludwig was on his bed.

Ludwig sighed. So much for getting some sleep.

Feliciano crawled onto the bed, despite Ludwig's protests, and flopped down beside him. "Whydya leave thuhpartee?"

"I was tired. You should go to bed too."

"I am in bed! See?" Feliciano spread his limbs out over the mattress, encroaching dangerously on Ludwig's personal space.

"Gah—Feliciano—" he complained. He'd had enough altered-state absurdities for tonight.

Feliciano threw an arm around him, giggling. "Master, heehee, right? I'myer slave, hahaha! Rome's cool…"

Ludwig blushed. He wondered if Feliciano was really aware of what he was saying.

Feliciano pulled himself closer until he was almost resting on Ludwig's chest.

Ludwig was flustered. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and he wanted Feliciano to get off, yet… he just didn't have the heart to shove him away.

"Whydya take offyer costume? It looked really good… heehee," Feliciano giggled, pulling himself over Ludwig entirely. "Butchya look good like this, too…" He traced his fingers along the lines of Ludwig's chest muscles.

Ludwig swallowed. "F-Feli, what, are you d-doing?" He fought to keep control over his voice.

Feliciano gazed up at him with a vague smile. "I reallike you, Lud."

Ludwig cleared his throat. "I, like you too," he said flatly.

"Naw, ah mean, I _really really_ like you…" He threaded his fingers through Ludwig's hair.

_What the fuck is with people touching my hair tonight?_

Ludwig's mouth was dry. Did he mean…?

"Uh…" He wracked his brain. How should he react? Did he feel the same way? Well, no, not really… He had only had thoughts for his brother recently, but he had always found Feliciano somewhat oddly attractive… Maybe he ought to try something, anything, to get his mind off his brother. Maybe if he accepted Feliciano, he'd stop thinking about Gilbert.

Ludwig swallowed again. "I… see…"

He could feel the warmth and weight of Feliciano's smaller frame resting on him. His face was suddenly quite close.

"Kin I kissyou?" he breathed.

Ludwig didn't answer. He just looked up at the pair of deep brown eyes above him, stomach twisting and turning in anticipation and fear. His first kiss with a boy that he would actually comply to…

Feliciano lowered his head. Their lips touched. They were like, pillows… warm, satiny pillows, against his mouth. Ludwig had never been kissed so gently, and it felt… different.

He stayed still as Feliciano moved his mouth, softly capturing Ludwig's lips with his own. Eventually he worked Ludwig's mouth open further and deepened the kiss, feeling around with his tongue, though the movements were sloppy in his drunkenness.

The rubbing along his tongue prompted Ludwig to kiss back. Feliciano tasted slightly of cheap vodka, but he ignored that, allowing their tongues to intertwine. Feliciano sucked lightly and Ludwig couldn't repress a slight moan.

His eyes, however, remained open, watching in an almost detachedly curious manner as the expressions on his roommate's face shifted.

Suddenly Feliciano pushed himself against him forcefully, making his jaw ache as he gave a muffled exclamation. Feliciano's hands roamed down, to his neck, his shoulders, his chest, and the kiss became desperate, all clashing teeth and writhing tongue. Ludwig had to gasp for air as their mouths shifted positions against each other.

Feliciano gripped his sides hard, and Ludwig brought his hands to his shoulders unconsciously, rolling them onto their sides so he could press Feliciano down into the mattress, thrust his tongue into his mouth, feel more of him, take control…

That was it. He had to take control. He had to take control of himself, his thoughts—he had to love Feliciano, not Gilbert.

_Gilbert…_

He broke the kiss, gasping for air as he stared down at his dazed roommate. Then the truth hit him like a brick wall.

He would give _anything_ for it to be Gilbert beneath him instead.

Crushed, Ludwig slumped to the side, away from Feliciano. It was wrong to use him this way, to make him think he felt the same way.

His chest ached. It ached with longing, and with regret. He wanted to say, something, to apologize—maybe he should just tell the truth and get it over with? Feliciano really was so sweet, innocent; he couldn't bear the thought of hurting him.

He propped himself up on an elbow, determined to make things clear, to make everything okay before they went away for the long weekend.

But when he looked over at Feliciano, he realized he had fallen asleep.

Ludwig sighed. He picked up his sleeping roommate to put him in his own bed before getting back in his. He should get some sleep, after all. He may well be driving tomorrow, and he would have to face his father, the father who had no clue how his younger son had betrayed him, and then it would be just Ludwig and Gilbert for the rest of the weekend. Alone.

Ludwig had a hard time getting to sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: family time and bro time.


	14. Chapter 10, Part 1

Ludwig brought his fist up to knock on Gilbert's door in trepidation. It was high time they loaded their things into the car and headed home, but Ludwig hadn't heard from Gilbert all day.

How much did he remember?

As for Feliciano, he had left him snoring in his bed. He would deal with that little mess later.

Elizaveta answered the door and showed him in kindly, but Ludwig could sense the anticipatory side glance she darted at him.

He left her downstairs and went to his brother's room. The door was open ajar, so he went in without knocking.

Gilbert had his back turned to him. He was on the phone.

"No, Mattie, it's not something you should be worried about—for chrissakes, he's my brother! No, that means that—Mattie, I was high. I was high out of my mind and I'm really sorry, okay? But please—fuck, I don't why—I wasn't! I wasn't thinking! That's the whole point here! But look, I didn't mean it and it doesn't mean anything, okay? It doesn't have anything to do with you, or with us. It was just a stupid—"

Gilbert turned and caught sight of his little brother standing in the doorway. He froze.

"…what? Oh, yeah, of course… I'll call you later, alright? …Okay I promise. Love you Mattie. Bye."

Gilbert hung up without taking his eyes off Ludwig. Ludwig couldn't read his expression.

"Gil, I—"

"Lud, I—"

They started speaking both at once. Ludwig blushed a little and allowed Gilbert to continue.

Gilbert took a deep breath. He suddenly seemed engrossed in his shoelaces. "Look, Lud, I'm really—I'm really really sorry about what happened," he began hesitantly, eyes still glued to his feet. "I—I don't even know—I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry, I don't—I—I had no clue what I was doing." Here he looked up, almost pleadingly. "Honestly. I mean, I would never—I mean, you know, I just, I was really out of it, and, I didn't even realize it was you, really I didn't, and, I—can you forgive me?" he blurted out.

Ludwig was taken aback. "Gilbert, I—"

"Because if you can't, I totally understand! I get it if you're angry or upset, you have every right—"

"Gilbert! Hang on! I… It's no big deal, okay? I'm fine, you don't have to worry," he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Gilbert blinked at him. "You're not… angry?"

"No… why would I be?"

"Because I—I mean, it—it was unacceptable, inappropriate, what I did, in front of all those people! I should never have done that, I mean, Christ, I shouldn't even have been that high; it was just, stupid. Irresponsible."

It was Ludwig's turn to blink. It was rare to see his brother so genuinely contrite. He seemed so concerned, as though worried he had done Ludwig serious harm.

"Gilbert, it's okay. I know you were high." He shrugged. "It was a party. Things… happen. I'm okay." Then, seeing Gilbert's still-knit brow, he added, hesitantly, "I know that you didn't mean it. Don't worry about it."

Gilbert sighed. "But, I just… I just feel like shit, putting you in that situation… I am really sorry, Lud. You know that, right?"

Something tightened painfully behind Ludwig's sternum as he looked at his brother. "Of course."

Gilbert hesitated a moment, then walked up to his brother and hugged him. He squeezed tight, and Ludwig was too caught off-guard to remember to pat or rub his brother comfortingly on the back until Gilbert released him.

Gilbert stepped back. He took another deep breath. "I promise I'll be more responsible with you in the future."

Ludwig frowned. The last thing he wanted was for his older brother to go into paternal mode. In fact, that was quite retrograde to his desires. "Gilbert, it's not that serious. And I'm not your responsibility. I can take care of myself, okay?"

"You are my responsibility!" Gilbert insisted, sounding inordinately upset in Ludwig's opinion. "You're my little brother, I'm supposed to protect you!"

"Gilbert, I know you're upset and you're sorry, but this is ridiculous. If you go to a party it should be to have fun, not to look after me! I don't need you to baby me!"

"Apparently you do! If it weren't for me getting high, there wouldn't be a million people gossiping about how we 'made out' at a party! If it weren't for me getting high, you never would have been raped!"

It slipped out before Gilbert realized what he was saying. His face fell instantaneously as Ludwig merely stared at him, unblinking.

For a moment, the room was so quiet that the subtle whirring of his open laptop seemed to ring painfully in Gilbert's ears. Then Ludwig swallowed. Something hardened in his eyes.

Gilbert's voice was barely more than a whisper. "Lud, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"I wasn't."

Gilbert's brow furrowed. "What?"

"I wasn't. I wasn't… raped." Ludwig's voice was so tight it sounded like any more tension and it would snap.

Gilbert blinked at him. He opened his mouth a few times in an attempt to speak before any sound came out.

"Look, Lud, I know that, these… things, are difficult to—" 

"I wasn't raped, okay? Stop acting like I'm some fucking victim! Everyone makes stupid, drunken, drugged-up mistakes—hell, you're living proof!"

Gilbert felt like he'd been slapped in the face. He just looked at his brother blankly.

He turned away and braced his hands against the dresser.

Ludwig's shoulders slouched. His glaring eased into morosely gazing at his brother's back. Jesus Christ, what was wrong with him? Here his brother was trying to do nothing but help him, give him sympathy, apologize, and he had to go blow up at him. Gilbert deserved better—so much better—in a brother.

"Lud…" Gilbert's voice was quavering, soft. "I know I haven't… I haven't been the best brother to you."

Again, the sharp pain behind Ludwig's sternum. "No, Gilbert…"

"And I'm sorry. I'm going to change that, okay?" he said firmly, still facing the dresser. "You have every right to be angry with me," he added softly.

"Gil… Gil, I'm not angry with you. I didn't mean that. Please, Gilbert…" He wasn't sure what he was asking for, but he needed something, some sort of assurance, from his brother.

Gilbert was silent. Ludwig cursed himself. Him and his stupid temper. He knew he was easily annoyed, but it wasn't often that he completely snapped. When he did though, he always managed to end up hurting someone he cared about.

Gilbert turned to him. He shrugged, but there was no casualness, no levity, behind the gesture. "You're right though. I do stupid shit. I make mistakes. It's for the best that I change that anyway. Those things were my fault, not yours."

"But they weren't," Ludwig insisted. "I mean, the kiss was… it was just—it was nothing. Really. And the… what, Francis and Antonio did… like I said, we were all high… I don't really remember what happened."

"But… if I hadn't been high after the Pride Day dance, I would have taken you home myself."

"Gilbert, this is pointless. Even if you hadn't been high it would have been reasonable to think that your friends would take me home without a problem. It's not your fault, and it's not a big deal anyway."

"It is a big deal though! If I were a better brother, I would make sure, no matter if I was high or not, that you were safe! And, and you can't go trivializing this shit, Lud! If anything you told me is true, then you didn't want them to do that to you, and that's reason enough for it to be a big fucking deal!"

"I don't know what I wanted, okay? I don't know what I _did!_ " Shit, when had he started yelling again? "I was, being, a little too accepting of Francis' attention at the dance, I think, but now I've learned my lesson! Let's just move on, and for Christsakes please don't think you have to go following me everywhere now, it's _not your fault!_ "

Gilbert looked at him sadly for a long moment. "Okay, Lud. Maybe… maybe it's not my fault. But then it's not yours either. This isn't about learning lessons or getting what you deserved. Nobody should have to go through that, and you definitely shouldn't blame yourself. Look, maybe you don't remember everything, but, okay, I hate to sound like one of the mods that gives the consent talk to all the frosh, but if you're in a seriously impaired state, you can't give consent. Even if you had said "yes" they'd still be taking advantage."

"But they were high too!"

"You think that's a fucking excuse? Ludwig—Ludwig, I'm saying this because I'm your brother and I care about you. I think you should seriously consider seeing someone, a counselor, about this. It sounds like you're really confused about what happened, and I think they could help." Gilbert's words stumbled over each other in their rush to get out, as if he had kept them pent up inside for quite some time.

Ludwig made a sound of frustration. His immediate reaction was to say he didn't need a fucking counselor, that this whole thing was just stupid and Gilbert was overreacting. But he couldn't. Something about Gilbert's serious, determined demeanor was off-putting. It was so unlike his brother to be this worried about anything, and it made Ludwig feel…

How did he feel?

Ludwig cast about, trying to decipher the tension in his muscles, the sickening clench in his gut, the hot ache in his throat.

It was fear. He was afraid of what Gilbert was saying. But why?

Ludwig sighed, feeling too tired to try to sort it all out now. "Whatever. I have to think about it. Let's just, pack up the car, alright? We should have left by now."

Gilbert sighed in return. It wasn't the answer he had hoped for, but it was good enough for now. He would work on him some more later. "Okay. This duffel's all I'm taking so, let's go."

They drove in tense silence to Ludwig's dorm. Gilbert waited in the car while Ludwig ran up to get his bag.

Feliciano was in bed with a hangover, and mumbled something about not remembering much of last night and to have a good break. It was good enough for Ludwig, so he left quickly, feeling more like he was a fleeing coward than anything else. It was entirely possible Feliciano would remember more when he regained his senses more fully, but Ludwig didn't want to think about that now.

The first part of the trip went smoothly, if somewhat uncomfortably. Gilbert drove and tried to start conversation, which Ludwig quickly shut down with one-word answers. It wasn't that he was still angry with his brother, but he just couldn't think of anything to say.

After about an hour of that Gilbert fell silent. Eventually Ludwig glanced over at him and noticed he was grimacing slightly.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just… slight headache. I think it's just the sun and having to squint at all the signs."

Ludwig raised his eyebrows. Gilbert didn't normally have trouble driving. His contacts made his eyesight just good enough that he could drive legally, and his sunglasses usually prevented light from hurting his eyes. Ludwig had never really considered that Gilbert might still have to squint at the roadside signs, though.

Sometimes Ludwig forgot his brother had such problems with his eyesight, an effect of the same condition that caused his albinism. It was easy enough for Gilbert to function in a familiar atmosphere, like at home or on campus, but in unfamiliar environments or changing surroundings, like on the road, it could be more difficult for him. In fact he was lucky to be able to drive at all.

But still, it didn't quite make sense. Gilbert had driven them to school in August and Ludwig was sure it had been sunny then; he could still remember the oppressive heat of move-in day.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Are you sure it's not because of last night?"

Gilbert cringed inwardly. "Well, I mean, maybe it's a bit of an E-hangover, but, sun and squinting can't help…" he trailed off hopefully.

Ludwig sighed and rolled his eyes. "I knew we shouldn't have gone out."

"Oh come on, it's not that big a deal. I can manage, alright? And seriously, my head hurting is definitely a secondary regret compared to other things that happened." A scowl settled over his features.

Ludwig's stomach flipped. Other things? He was fairly certain he was just talking about the kiss, but...

"Uh, Gilbert, how much do you remember of last night?"

Gilbert's mouth twisted into what might have been a sheepish expression, though it was hard to tell with the sunglasses. "Um, well, not that much… Actually, it was Liz who told me about, well, that I, uh, kissed you…"

"…And after that?" Ludwig felt like he couldn't breathe right.

"Mm, not much. I was a little drunk too. A little of walking home maybe, then… nothing. Why, what did I do?" Gilbert questioned with dread in his voice.

Relief surged through Ludwig's chest. "Oh, not much. Well, you did highlight a whole page of your science textbook."

"Shit! That was a rental!"

"I know…"

"Aw fuck man. Okay, whatever. Anything else? Anything mortifying?"

"No… I just, took care of you, then Liz took over when she got home." _Keep it light, casual._

"What about at the party?"

"Well, you looked pretty crazy trying to dance with people, but I got you to sit down."

"Oh. Uh, is that when, you know…"

"Oh, um, yeah."

There was an awkward pause.

"So, uh… what went down exactly? I don't really get, how it happened, I guess, you know?"

"Uh, well… You, um, started to, touch my face and hair, and then you—" Ludwig cleared his throat— "uh, decided to sit in my lap and, well, you were kind of rubbing our cheeks together andthenyoukissedme." He sat completely red-faced, staring straight ahead.

Gilbert let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Oh. Um. Jesus. Well, why—why didn't you, you know, shove me off or something?"

Ludwig fidgeted slightly. _Because I actually loved every fucking second of it and God oh God I just want to taste your mouth again—_ "Because I, well, um, I didn't think that anything was going to happen, you know? And then it kind of just, was such a surprise I couldn't really react, I guess."

"Mm."

Gilbert looked terribly uncomfortable, but Ludwig was sure he nowhere near matched his own embarrassment.

"Oh, uh, look, rest stop in five miles!" Gilbert pointed out a little too cheerily.

"Oh, great," Ludwig replied a little too eagerly.

At the rest stop Ludwig offered to take over the driving so his brother could rest his eyes. Gilbert ended up napping for the rest of the way, and Ludwig couldn't say he was disappointed. At least he wouldn't have to keep up any awkward conversations now.

Ludwig stole occasional glances at his brother. It was difficult to look glamorous while sleeping in a car, but even with his mouth hanging open and his head lolling on his shoulder, Gilbert looked oddly beautiful to Ludwig, with his pale lashes resting on pink cheeks. He could feel an ache of longing rising behind his sternum once more. He wanted so badly to be able to reach over and brush the stray strand of hair from his face, to caress his cheek, to press his lips to his brother's rosy, parted pair.

He replayed the kiss from the previous night over and over in his mind's eye like a movie reel projection, only far more immersive. Fingers in his hair, breath on his face, weight in his lap, cheek pressed to cheek, mouth to mouth and tongues sliding soft wetness engulfing—

Ludwig swallowed heavily as a surge of warm tingles whooshed through his stomach. He sighed, staring down the long highway ahead of him. What kind of pathetic situation was this? What sad, depraved person drove for hours with a sleeping brother next to them while fantasizing about that same oblivious brother? If Gilbert could see his thoughts right now…

As if on cue, Gilbert stirred slightly. He lifted his head and blinked blearily out the window. "How far we?" he asked, his speech slurred with sleep.

"Not far now. Just go back to sleep."

Gilbert obediently rested his head back down and was out like a light again.

…

"Boys! Come set the table!" Their father's voice wafted into the family room where Ludwig and Gilbert had flopped down on the couch for some channel surfing.

At some point as they had sat there side by side, Ludwig realized that they were in the exact setup for the first sexual fantasy he had ever had about his brother.

But this time, of course, it did not play out. Instead, Gilbert sighed at their father's command and got up slowly to trudge to the kitchen. Ludwig followed, but only after lingering a moment to try to reconcile the mental image he had created with the reality of the place.

"What's for dinner?" Gilbert asked loudly as he strode into the kitchen.

Their father did not look up from his work at the stove. "Your old favorite."

Gilbert's eyes lit up. "Käsespätzle! YES!" He hopped into the air with a little whoop.

Ludwig smiled as well. He couldn't match his brother's enthusiasm, but Käsespätzle had always been one of his favorites as well. And he had never realized how much a few months of dining hall food would make him miss his father's authentic German cooking. How had he ever taken a quality home-cooked meal for granted?

The table set, the three of them sat down to eat in the breakfast nook as usual. The dining room had never gotten much use; the standard sized table there was much too large for their small family.

Gilbert loaded his entire plate with the cheesy noodles, leaving the sauerkraut for his second round.

Their father even went so far as pouring some of the finest beer he kept in the basement for his sons on the rare occasion of their being together for a meal.

The man started with the obligatory questions about school and financial situations before moving on to plans for the weekend. "So, Gilbert, you rented the old cabin?"

"Yup!" Gilbert managed to get out around a mouthful of Käsespätzle. He swallowed and washed it down with a swig of beer. "Same exact one as always! It's for Lud's birthday!"

"And you're sure you can afford it?"

"Dad, of course!" Gilbert whined. "It's the off-season, plus we're like on their 'valued costumers' list or whatever the hell it is, got a special offer."

"Hm, good. Well that should be very pleasant. You have the front desk and emergency service numbers?"

Gilbert sighed. "I'll make sure to get them when we check in."

"Well, make sure you do. And make sure the cabin phone works. Remember there's no cell phone reception." He paused to take a bite. "Oh, Ludwig, did you receive the birthday check I sent you?"

"Oh, yes, thank you. I'm sorry I forgot to email that I got it, things have been so busy."

"Hm, well, don't forget what I said about keeping in touch. But it does sound like you're quite preoccupied with your studies."

"Yeah." _And staying up late on school nights to read fanfictions and doujins and articles all about incest._

Not for the first time, Ludwig was struck by the marvelous and terrifying privacy of thoughts. If his father and brother could hear what he was thinking…

Sometimes, in a room full of people when Ludwig's mind would wander to a fantasy about his favorite fictional brothers or his own real life brother, he would suddenly become irrationally frightened that someone would suddenly be able to see into his head, would turn and run for the door or just start yelling at him for being so perverse and disgusting. And people usually thought of him as "such a nice boy, such a proper boy." He supposed, in reality, he wasn't the only one though, and he might be just as shocked to read other peoples' minds. But people always liked to think that everyone around them was thinking pleasant, perfectly acceptable thoughts, not thoughts of kissing your brother or swallowing his cock and making him moan the most gorgeous moans.

It was quite remarkable, really, what the mind could do. Right now the Gilbert in his head was pounding him into a mattress and making him scream his name while the Gilbert sitting across the table from him in flesh and blood happily shoveled more Käsespätzle into his mouth. And the father who had raised them both as a single parent was calmly sipping his beer, enjoying, in his own quiet way, a night when they could all sit around the table.

Ludwig stared absentmindedly at Gilbert's quickly diminishing plate of food. He was a piece of shit, he really was. He was the black cloud that could only cast a shadow over their familial happiness. Sure, they had had their problems in the past, with the struggles of a single father, the throes of teenage rebellion—every family had its little issues to work through. But this? This was no little issue.

If his thoughts ever did become known, it could only tear them apart. And if he managed to keep his secret, surely the pain of that unsatisfied longing would drive a wedge slowly between him and his brother and father, and they would drift apart. All of them, because Ludwig had long since realized he was the bridge between his father and his brother, who saw eye to eye on so few things. It was hard to imagine them together without him there as well.

Already, he felt distant from them. Oddly blocked off, as Gilbert chatted animatedly about his internship and their father nodded occasionally with his typically sober expression.

He wished he could close that distance, he wished he could be closer to Gilbert, close to him all the time…

Suddenly he realized that Gilbert was looking at him. He looked up into questioning red eyes. Shit. What expression had been on his face?

Whatever it was, Ludwig quickly shook it off and gave a small reassuring smile as if to say, "sorry, zoned out." That seemed to be enough for Gilbert, who promptly reached for another serving of Sauerkraut.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get out of this trip," his father was saying. "I would have liked to have had the weekend with you. But, I thought that perhaps I could spare a day next weekend to come visit. How does that work with your schedules?"

Ludwig nodded, trying to bring himself out of his reverie. "That works for me. I'll be done with midterms."

"Me too! Yeah, should be good!"

Their father nodded. "Alright then, I'll let you know the details later. But…" He paused for a moment, looking to his two sons. He cleared his throat, as he always did when he was having trouble expressing himself. "I am glad I could be here tonight with you. It's… it's good to have you both home."

Ludwig felt genuinely happy to hear it. Sometimes he worried about his taciturn father alone in this house. He didn't seem to have any friends save his vaguely annoying drinking buddy Romeo, the proud old Italian. But underneath his content at being a comfort to his father, something still gnawed at his gut. Something that whispered _traitor_ just at the edge of his consciousness.

The meal finished, they all helped clean up in the kitchen. The brothers said goodnight and goodbye to their father, who had to catch a plane at an ungodly early hour of the morning and would be gone before they got up.

Ludwig and Gilbert sat around a while longer, just talking. After a while Gilbert shifted uncomfortably.

"Hey, Lud, I'm gonna… I'm gonna go for a smoke," he said, glancing in the direction of their father's ground floor bedroom.

Ludwig frowned. "You still smoke cigarettes?"

"Shh! Yes. Sometimes. C'mon, I don't wanna have this argument now." Gilbert glared moodily down at the table, not willing to meet his little brother's eyes.

Ludwig sighed but made no answer.

"Come on," Gilbert said, rising and heading towards the stairs. "We can still talk and all."

Ludwig followed Gilbert up to his room. It was so familiar to Ludwig, but there was always something odd about being in a place that was no longer regularly inhabited. There were the traces of Gilbert's childhood and his visits home all throughout the room: the outdated PC, the collection of science fiction books, the old stuffed animals lined up on the shelf above the bed, even a laundry hamper full of clothes he'd neglected to wash before last summer's end. But there was also the layer of dust coating the bookshelves and dressers and even beginning to settle on the desk. And something about the smell, too… It seemed stale. It didn't smell like Gilbert here, not like his room at school did.

Gilbert fished a pack of cigarettes out of his duffel and bounced up onto his bed to open a window. Ludwig tentatively sat beside him, both their arms resting on the window sill.

"Sorry," Gilbert mumbled with a cigarette between his lips as he struggled a bit to light it. "It's just… being home, y'know? Being around Dad."

He managed to light it and took his first slow draw, exhaling contentedly and letting the smoke curl away out the window. "Not that I don't like seeing him, y'know? But it's just, I dunno, somehow I always get nervous, like I can just feel something's gonna go wrong." Another puff. Another trail of smoke.

"Mm." Ludwig couldn't really blame Gilbert for thinking that way, considering his track record of upsetting their father. "He was glad to see you, though."

"Yeah." Gilbert shrugged, letting another lungful dissipate into the cool night air.

Ludwig stared as Gilbert brought the white cylinder back to his lips, so casually graceful between his long pale fingers. Then the close of lips, so perfect, so tight, and the part again to release those lazy curls of gauzy grey. Then those lips would remain barely open for a moment, so unwittingly luscious as Gilbert closed his eyes in enjoyment, before the cigarette was brought back up for another shudder-inducing round.

Ludwig didn't know what seized him. Madness, probably. But before he could think about what he was doing, he blurted out, "Can I try?"

Gilbert blinked at him a moment. "I thought you hated smoking."

Ludwig shrugged. "Well, can't know until you try, right?"

The older boy raised a silvery eyebrow. "That'll set you on the fast road to addiction, Brüderlein."

Something warm fluttered in Ludwig's stomach. It wasn't very often his brother referred to him with German terms of endearment, but he would never admit how much he liked it when he did. It felt so fond, somehow.

"One puff can't hurt, right?"

Gilbert looked at him skeptically before reluctantly handing the cigarette over. "Okay, but, I can tell you you'll hate it. And that's a good thing. Don't smoke, okay Lud? It's a vile habit."

Ludwig snorted as he took the cigarette clumsily between his fingers. "Can't you think of anything more original to say?"

He had to admit a small part of him had absurdly hoped Gilbert would simply hold the cigarette out and he could take a puff from it while it was still between Gilbert's fingers. Maybe his lips could even accidently brush them as he inhaled.

But there was no reason that Gilbert would do that. This would have to be good enough. Smoking from the same cigarette, trying his best to imitate his brother's effortlessly seductive actions.

Ludwig brought it to his lips and took a pull. He was surprised by the warmth and the sharpness of the smoke entering his mouth and lungs, but he forced himself to hold it before exhaling slowly as he leaned out the window. It wasn't until he had expelled all the smoke that he started coughing, eyes watering slightly and feeling slightly light-headed.

"How the hell—" _cough, cough_ "do you smoke that?"

"Kesese, you get used to it. You okay?"

"Yeah," _cough_ , "fine." He didn't want to look wussy in front of Gilbert, so he brought the cigarette back to his lips, determined not to cough this time.

"I thought you didn't like it?"

"I couldn't tell, have to try again."

"You're just gonna make yourself cough more."

Ludwig glared at Gilbert, because he knew he was right.

Gilbert reached for the cigarette. "Here, I got an idea. Might be able to palate it easier. Just keep your mouth open."

Ludwig furrowed his brow in confusion but did as he was told. Gilbert inhaled deeply from the cigarette once again and held it in, beckoning to Ludwig. Ludwig leaned forward, no clue in his mind as to what Gilbert was doing, when Gilbert took hold of his head and brought them practically mouth to mouth.

For one insane instant Ludwig thought he was going to kiss him again and his stomach dropped in a terrible thrill. When Gilbert stopped just short of his lips he wondered frantically if he was supposed to close the distance between them, but then an exhale of smoke hit his open mouth. He flinched and coughed in surprise.

"Kesese, Luddy, you're supposed to breathe in! Haven't you ever heard of shotgunning?"

"Uh… no." No, he hadn't heard of it, but he liked it, he decided. At least with Gilbert. He'd get it right. "Um, sorry, try again?"

"You want me to do it again?" Gilbert asked quizzically.

Ludwig shrugged, trying to be casual, reasonable. "Well, it didn't work the first time, but, I'll do it right this time."

Gilbert shrugged back. "Okay. So, inhale when I exhale."

Ludwig nodded as he watched Gilbert take another draw, his gut tingling in anticipation. He leaned forward, close to his brother, mouth open.

Their gazes locked for a brief moment as Gilbert reached for his head, and Ludwig could have sworn he saw something flit across his brother's eyes, something strange and unreadable, before Gilbert looked away. Then their lips were almost touching again, and he could feel the warmth of Gilbert's face, and he inhaled deeply as the smoke exchanged from one mouth to the other, filling his lungs and head with strange fuzziness. As he breathed in, he almost hoped he would somehow breathe in a part of Gilbert. After all, they were so close, this was his air, his essence he was taking in, it seemed. He wanted this breath to last forever.

He let his eyes fall half-closed as he enjoyed the slight buzz from the warm smoke that settled so deeply in his lungs and as he soaked in the nearness of his brother's face and body. It was hard to focus on his face when it was so close to his own, but he tried to watch him as he pushed the last bit of smoke out and into Ludwig's waiting mouth. White lashes fluttered and dark red eyes met his and _God Gilbert was beautiful_ , but then he pulled back suddenly, looking out the window again.

Ludwig held his breath a moment, watching his brother return to smoking nonchalantly, before he exhaled, little ghosts of smoke curling from his lips and disappearing quickly.

He leaned on the window sill, unsure. Gilbert wasn't looking at him.

"Well, that was… cool," he ventured lamely.

Gilbert only smiled a little. "Of course. I'm awesome at shotgunning."

Ludwig paused. "Um. Again?" _Sound cool, not nervous at all, there's nothing weird about this—_

"Kesese, just take this, or get your own if you want." Gilbert offered the cigarette over.

Ludwig tried not to let his sinking disappointment show. He wouldn't get Gilbert to do it again. Maybe his brother wasn't actually so comfortable with having their mouths so close.

"Oh… no thanks, don't want to start coughing again."

Gilbert shrugged and took another puff.

They sat like that in silence for a few moments. Something that had been nagging at Ludwig pushed to the forefront of his mind.

"Why… why do you think I need to see a counselor?" he asked hesitantly.

Gilbert glanced at him. "Well…" He sighed. "Ludwig, seeing a counselor doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with you. They can just, help you sort out your thoughts sometimes."

"But I don't need sorting out!" The words pounded in his ears because he knew how false they were. "I just… I just want to forget about that, okay?" He knew he didn't need to explain what "that" was.

Gilbert sighed again. Those sighs were really annoying Ludwig at the moment. "Lud, it doesn't matter if you want to forget it. Look, something's been bothering you recently, I can tell. I just don't want you to feel like you can't get help."

Ludwig looked at his brother. _He can tell. He can tell something is wrong. How long till he catches on that that's not the only thing?_

Ludwig didn't respond. Gilbert stared down at his cigarette.

"You know…" he said finally, tapping some ash off through the window, "I went for counseling sophomore year. Should have gone sooner though."

Ludwig blinked at him, confused. "What for?"

Another slow draw in, slow exhale out. "Number of things," he responded, eyes looking nowhere in particular into the darkness of the backyard.

Ludwig waited. He could tell Gilbert had something to say, and he didn't want to get in the way. It wasn't often Gilbert opened up about more sensitive issues.

"It was when Liz dumped me. Spring semester." He chuckled ruefully. "Sounds stupid, doesn't it? Anyway. I felt like… I didn't have any friends. I mean, suddenly my best friend was dating my ex, and I felt like I couldn't hang out with them. And I mean, all my other friends were their friends too, so it was hella awkward. I thought nobody wanted to be around me. Which, I realize, wasn't true. But at the time…" He sighed again. This time Ludwig wasn't annoyed. "And I thought… I thought it was because of how I look, y'know?" he said slowly. "Stupid, I know. But."

He paused. "I mean, it's better than high school obviously, but there are still jerks who say insensitive shit. And, I thought that, that…" He took a deep breath and started again, quietly. "I thought that no one would ever want me again. I mean, why would anyone ever choose me, when they could have someone normal looking?"

_No!_ Ludwig wanted to say. _But you're beautiful!_ But he let Gilbert continue.

"I… I wasn't eating right. Started getting weird ideas about how I looked. Slept around a lot, thinking I was lucky to get anything I could. Had a fling with… someone I shouldn't have."

Ludwig was on tenterhooks. He was bursting with a million questions, foremost being _why didn't you tell me?_ But Gilbert wasn't finished.

"That's when I, started hanging out with Francis and Toni more." He said their names like they tasted bitter on his tongue. "Got into drugs. I mean, not to sound overdramatic, but I was just doing them way too much. Grades went down.

"I felt like… like I wasn't in control anymore. And like nothing would ever get better. Because I can't change what I am. No matter where I go, people will always just see this." He gestured vaguely to his face. "I can't even hide it. I just felt like nothing could ever help."

Ludwig could feel a lump rising in his throat. It killed him that his brother, his beautiful, strong older brother, who had always been so good to him, had felt like that. If he could just make him see, make him understand, how much he was loved…

Gilbert took a deep, shaky breath. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse, quiet. "I… tried to kill myself. More than once."

Horror, utter, icy horror seeped into Ludwig's core as his words sank in.

"Had everything planned out," Gilbert whispered. "Even bought razors—"

"NO!" It was too much, too much to bear. Ludwig threw himself into his brother's chest, sobbing. "No no no no Gilbert…"

To think his brother had come so close to… No, he couldn't think it. Couldn't think of the possibility that this warm, strong body he was clutching wouldn't be here to anchor him. Couldn't think of the possibility that that obnoxious voice and laugh would never reach his ears again. Couldn't think of _life_ , of going on, without Gilbert.

He felt strong arms wrap around him, felt a soft hand cradle his head as he sniveled against Gilbert's collarbone.

"Oh Lud…" The words were so soft he wasn't sure he heard them, just as he wasn't sure he felt the chaste kiss pressed into his hair.

Gilbert just squeezed him for a moment, and Ludwig didn't care in the slightest that their awkward positioning was putting uncomfortable pressure on his shoulders and chest.

"You know why I didn't do it?" Ludwig could hear his tears in his voice. "Every time I thought of you. I was so ready to let everything else go, I was so sick of it all, but I could never, _ever_ do that to you."

Ludwig let out an especially loud sob and gripped his brother harder, fingers digging into his neck and shoulder, wishing he could just sink into his very flesh. His warm tears splashed onto Gilbert's chest, and Gilbert squeezed him so hard it was impossible to breathe for a moment, but Ludwig hardly noticed, he felt so loved, so loved there in his brother's arms.

"I love you, Lud," Gilbert said into his hair, where his own tears were dampening the strands.

"I love you too, Gilbert," Ludwig replied, voice muffled against his warm shoulder. "So so much."

He could only hope, as he stayed burrowed into the warmth of his brother's embrace, that someday Gilbert would forgive him for just how much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next part: the cabin, at last--and a shocking surprise.


	15. Chapter 10, Part 2

"Ah, home sweet second home!" Gilbert exclaimed as he dropped his duffel and looked around the interior of the small but cozy cabin.

Ludwig made his way to the kitchen area bearing the grocery bags and his own small suitcase. He examined his surroundings as he began unloading their food into the fridge.

"Have they remodeled in here?" he asked, squinting at the nice countertops and unfamiliar couch.

"Yeah, they mentioned something on the site about having new furnishings or something. It's only a two-person now, but, that's enough."

"Mm. It's nice."

"Better be, I'm payin'!"

Ludwig smiled over his shoulder at his brother. "Thanks."

Gilbert checked the phone on the wall and the list of contacts provided on a sheet next to it, then made sure the tap in the kitchen was functioning. That done, he and Ludwig carried their bags into the bedroom at the back of the cabin.

When they had been there before, the small bedroom had contained a queen size bed and two small bunks crammed in, but as Ludwig instantly realized upon entering, that was no longer the case. Instead a single king size took up most of the room, and Gilbert immediately threw himself down on one side and began bouncing the mattress a little.

"Wow, nice bed! Guess we'll have to share."

Ludwig reddened a little as he gave a small nod and claimed the other side of the bed.

"Hm. Now I know why they called it a honeymoon suite," Gilbert said as he stared thoughtfully at the headboard.

Ludwig rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Yes, that's… usually what that means."

"Ah well." Gilbert flopped back onto the pillows. "It really is comfy."

Ludwig sighed. Well, this would be interesting. Potentially very, very good, too… What excuse could he think of to cuddle up to Gilbert like on previous nights? Although, at the same time, it might just be painfully tempting.

Once they had settled in, they decided to make some lunch. Just simple cold-cut sandwiches.

"So, what d'you wanna do this weekend?"

"Uh, well, the hikes around here are always nice. Maybe rent a boat, too, and go out on the lake?"

"Awesome! Let's go down to the beach after we eat."

"Sounds good."

Ludwig chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "Hey Gilbert, did you check the weather reports?"

"Oh, uh… no. But, I'm sure it'll be fine. The weather's been so crazy warm!"

"Hmm." Ludwig raised a skeptical eyebrow but let it pass. After all, his brother had already done so much to plan this weekend.

…

"Jesus Christ it's warm," Gilbert said, shrugging out of his jacket as they lay sprawled out on their favorite rock overlooking the lake.

Ludwig squinted up at the sun beating down on them. "Did you remember your sunscreen?"

Gilbert snorted. "Don't worry, _Dad_ , I'll be fine."

"Last time you said that you were red as a tomato for a week."

"Was not."

"Hmph."

There was contented silence for a while. It had been nice walking over the familiar trails and down to the shore of the lake. Ludwig recognized it all, though he hadn't been there since Gilbert had gone to college. The only difference was that everything was slightly less lush now that the summer greenery was gone. Ludwig had never seen the place in autumn, but it was still beautiful even after most of the leaves had fallen.

But he still had so many questions. Questions about things Gilbert had said last night, questions about things that had happened in the last few days. And he had no idea how to approach them without sounding entirely awkward or insensitively abrupt.

Finally he settled on something relatively tame to start with. "Hey, Gilbert."

"Yeah?"

"Um, I heard you on the phone yesterday with Matt… Was he, you know, upset about the other night?"

"Oh, that." It was impossible to tell what Gilbert was thinking from his tone. "Nah, just a little confused I think. I mean, I guess he was worried that I was trying to, I dunno, send him a message or something, like I felt we weren't moving quick enough. 'Cause, you know, he left the party early and all. But I just tried to tell him it's all fine."

"…And? Is he alright?"

"Oh, he'll be fine. He can be kinda sensitive about things, but, I think he's sensible enough to get over it."

"Oh. That's… good."

"Yeah."

"…So… you're taking things slow with him though still?"

"Yeah…" Gilbert began fiddling with the zipper of his jacket.

"And, he's okay with that too?"

"Yeah, no, I mean, it's what we both want. I think."

"…Oh?"

Gilbert took off his sunglasses and inspected the lenses carefully. "I mean, it's just…" He wiped them on his shirt. "I can't tell what he's thinking sometimes. Kinda quiet, you know? I wish he would just, talk to me more. I can't tell if I… well, if I make him happy I guess." He replaced the sunglasses over his eyes.

"…Oh."

"And it's just… It's just that you get fed all this fairytale crap all your life about falling in love and finding the perfect man… woman… whatever, and you think oh, you just need to find that person and it'll all work out great, but no, relationships take fucking work! And it's just so fucking frustrating because you can never tell which ones are really gonna be worthwhile in the end." Gilbert let out a huff of breath. There was a pause, then he added, more quietly, "You know?"

Ludwig thought for a moment. He had never been in a relationship, actually, so he wasn't sure he was really an authority on the matter. "I guess that makes sense."

Gilbert sighed. "It's just… how do you tell? I mean, I really like Matt, I really do. Who knows, maybe we'll keep on dating and it will be great and we'll end up living together next year, or maybe we'll just keep dating and it will just get boring, and then, what, it will be like I wasted all that time with him when next year we might not even be in the same state any more. But, whatever, I guess it's stupid to get worked up about all that stuff now. It's only October."

"Hm."

Living together. His brother was thinking about living with his boyfriend, about having some sort of normal future that was on the path to settling down, maybe marriage and a family down the line… not a plan with room for an affair with his brother.

_Oh God I'm so stupid…_ Ludwig groaned inwardly. _Obviously he's not thinking about that. Who thinks about that? Only sick perverts like me._

"Hey Gilbert…"

"Hm?"

"When did you… uh, when did you first figure out you were into, you know, guys." He could feel his cheeks heating up as he said it, and he was sure it wasn't from the sun. He was just glad Gilbert wasn't looking at him.

"Oh, uh, well… I guess I'd kinda been wondering for a while, 'cause, you know, there were some guys in high school I thought I liked a little more than I should have, but, when I got to college I met Liz and Rod, started going to the LGBT club, just figuring, hey, I'll see what this is about, new place, I can explore a little… and uh, the club had this one dance where I was pretty drunk, and I started dancing with this guy, and it was like, not so bad, you know? And we started… uh, making out, so… I figured after that there wasn't really any going back. So I hooked up with a few guys over freshman and sophomore years, but then I was dating Liz, so…" He shrugged.

"Oh." Ludwig nodded, face still a little too hot. "And, um, when did you first go out with a guy?"

"Um. I guess that depends on what you mean by going out."

"Uh, I don't know, seeing him regularly?"

Gilbert paused a moment and Ludwig could have sworn he was blushing. Or maybe that was just the start of sunburn on his cheeks.

Gilbert cleared his throat. "Well, after Liz, there was this guy… I guess he was the first I had any sort of continuous thing with."

Ludwig propped himself up on and elbow so he could see his brother better. "Was that the one… you said you shouldn't have been with?" he asked quietly.

Gilbert swallowed and started fiddling with his jacket zipper again. "Yeah," he said softly, not looking at Ludwig.

"…Who was it?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Older guy. Doesn't matter. Ended kinda bad."

Ludwig looked down. "Hm." If his brother didn't want to tell him, then he wasn't going to tell him.

There was silence for a while again. Finally Ludwig spoke up, tentatively. "Uh, Gilbert."

"…Yeah?"

"Do you think… Do you think it's possible to be too open-minded?"

"Too open-minded? In what sense?"

"Well, with, relationships, say."

"Oh, huh. Well…" He thought for a moment. "No, I don't think so."

Ludwig blinked. "Really? Don't you think there are, I don't know, lines that… shouldn't be crossed?" He could feel an uncomfortable heat surge through his entire body and overturn his stomach. Was he being too obvious?

"Well, maybe, but, those lines have to be drawn by the people in the relationship. I think anything's okay as long as it's consensual. So, like, pedophilia, maybe not, 'cause kids can't give consent, right? But I mean, there are all sorts of crazy relationships out there, and as long as they make people happy…"

Ludwig's skin was tingling. Well, that was a slightly better response than he had hoped for. He swallowed. "Have you ever… uh, been in a, 'crazy' relationship?"

"Kesesese, what do you mean?" Gilbert laughed, sitting up. "I mean, some people call two guys kissing crazy, or worse."

"Well no, I don't mean that, obviously. I don't know though. I don't know what I mean." He looked uncomfortably down at his hands and began picking his uneven thumb nail.

Gilbert just looked at him for a moment. "Well…" he said slowly. "I did kinda…" He trailed off mid-sentence and Ludwig looked up at him, curious. Okay, Gilbert was definitely blushing.

"Ahem," Gilbert continued. "I dallied around with open-relationship threesome type stuff for a bit." He seemed to cringe at his own words.

Ludwig stared at him. "Uh, what?"

"Well you asked! I mean, there's nothing wrong with that, we were all consenting adults!" The blush was spreading across his face to his neck.

"With… who?!"

Gilbert pursed his lips for a moment, face practically beet red. He gritted his teeth and said, in a very strained voice, "Lizanrod."

Ludwig's mouth literally fell open. "You… you had a ménage à trois with ELIZAVETA and RODERICH?"

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Gilbert huffed.

"Are you SERIOUS?"

"No I made it up!"

"…"

"…YES I'm serious! Jesus… don't have to make such a big deal out of it..." he grumbled.

"Wait, so, you and Roderich—"

"YES! Yes yes yes YES I HAD SEX WITH THEM. BOTH. AT ONCE. AND IT WAS FUCKING AWESOME. HAPPY??"

Ludwig just stared at him. Gilbert stared back, red-faced and out of breath.

Ludwig couldn't bring himself to say anything. His brother—with Rod and Liz—woah, that was just _weird_ —

"Um. Okay. That was awkard." Gilbert broke the silence, looking away and rubbing his neck.

"Uh, wow."

"…Yup."

"…"

"I'm going for a swim!"

Ludwig looked up, startled, as Gilbert rose to his feet and started stripping off his shirt.

"What?! Gilbert, we don't have towels! And I didn't bring my bathing suit!"

"Tch, wuss. Since when do you need a bathing suit to go swimming here? No one's ever on this beach."

Ludwig stared, swallowing hard, as Gilbert began shimmying out of his jeans.

"Uh… sunscreen…" he said weakly.

"Oh shut up. Come on, are you gonna undress or do I have to push you in with your clothes on?"

"But, but towels—"

"We'll dry off back at the cabin! Not like it's far."

"The water's probably cold—"

"Jesus Christ, you're starting to sound as pussy as that limp noodle Roderich." Gilbert snorted. "Kesese, limp noodle's kinda an appropriate description for him in bed too, if y'know what I mean, but he makes up for it with—"

"Too much information, Gilbert!"

"Kesese, well, you better be coming in after me or I will personally see to it that your luggage ends up stranded in a canoe in the middle of the lake." He smirked at him as he finished removing his shoes and pants.

"Gilbert, you wouldn't!" Ludwig huffed, flustered.

"Or would I?" he taunted. And then, the underwear were gone, and there was Gilbert standing in his full glory before his brother.

Ludwig's embarrassment increased tenfold.

"Alright, I'm not waitin' for ya!" Gilbert turned and went for a running leap off the rock. "GERONIMOOOOO!"

There was a resounding splash in the water below. Ludwig ran to the edge of the rock and looked down on time to see his brother resurface and shake his hair out of his eyes.

"Whew! Motherfucker, it is a little cold… C'mon Lud!"

Ludwig sighed and began shedding his clothing in a pile next to his brother's. As he did he indulged his thoughts in lingering on the brief image of Gilbert standing there in the nude before he jumped. Was it wrong that he found the fact that Gilbert had tight little blond curls for pubes rather than the typical black wires incredibly enticing? Well, how could it not be wrong, but… he supposed there were varying degrees of wrong it might be.

Ludwig shivered slightly as a light breeze brushed his exposed skin, but the sun was still warm. He looked down at the water below where Gilbert was splashing around and floating on his back. Ludwig blushed a little at how exposed his brother's position was, then braced himself for the jump.

He would never tell Gilbert this, but a part of Ludwig had always dreaded this jump. He felt silly afterwards every time, because it really wasn't so far; it was just a matter of getting his legs to carry him over the edge.

_3… 2… 1… Go!_

His legs acted as springs to hurl him gracelessly over the ledge. He let out a little "WOOO!" of part fear, part exhilaration as he flailed through the air for a second, then smacked into the glassy green water.

The instant his skin stopped tingling from the impact, his nerves were barraged with icy cold. He quickly made his way back up towards air and sunlight.

He gasped as his head broke the surface. "Shit shit SHIT Gilbert it's freezing!"

"Kesese, you'll get used to it. Try floating, the water at the surface is warmer."

Reluctantly Ludwig did as his brother suggested. He felt very, exposed, though, with his entire front uncovered.

"Hey Lud, do you remember your swimming lessons here?"

"Not really. Dad says it's where I learned though, right?"

"Yup. I remember. Kesese, oh my God you were so cute. Little Luddy!" Gilbert cooed, reaching out to ruffle Ludwig's hair and succeeding only in half-submerging his face.

"Hey!" Ludwig spluttered, blushing.

"Kesese! Do you remember—well, I guess you wouldn't, but anyway, there was this one time Dad brought you out here and he wanted you to try to let go of him and swim a few strokes away, but you were so stubborn, you just wouldn't do it. And so finally he was like, 'Ludwig, I'm not going to let anything bad happen. What's the matter, don't you trust me?' and do you know what you said?"

Ludwig smiled and rolled his eyes. He knew what he had said; he'd heard the story a million times before.

"Kesese, you just looked up at him and said, 'Nope!' Just like that! 'Nope!' Kesesese! One stubborn kid!"

Ludwig chuckled a little. Even if he only knew that story from retellings, he had a lot of good memories about this place. He looked around for their old race marker, and sure enough, nearly 100 meters into the lake a familiar small rock jutted up from the smooth surface of the water.

"Hey, Gil, race you to the rock and back. Last one's a rotten egg!" he yelled, and immediately threw himself forward and began swimming.

"Hey! Cheater! I wasn't ready!" complained Gilbert behind him, but the wild splashes indicated that Gilbert was struggling to catch up anyway. Ludwig laughed as he easily outpaced his brother with his longer and stronger limbs.

Just as he was reaching the rock, though, he felt a hand grasp his ankle and hold him back. He rounded on Gilbert, struggling to stay afloat as his legs were captured in a strong grip. "Oh, and I'm the cheater?"

"Payback! Kesese!"

Gilbert lunged forward, trying to force his brother under. Ludwig twisted away, but Gilbert dove down and came up right underneath him, effectively knocking him over.

They grappled for a while, each trying to push the other back as they struggled to round the rock, but eventually gave up and just resorted to wrestling. Gilbert fought fiercely, making up for his disadvantage in size. They rolled around underwater, occasionally breaking surface for air, just as they had countless times in years past.

Only now, it was different. Ludwig was painfully aware of their clothesless state, of Gilbert's bare flesh and their bodies pressed together, twisting, gripping, muscles flexing under the skin. He tried to concentrate on just winning the game, satisfying his competitive spirit and not worrying about where Gilbert's privates were in relation to his hands. But when Gilbert managed to pin his limbs in a full body lock, arms and legs wrapped tightly around his little brother, Ludwig couldn't help but concentrate on that soft lump of flesh pressed firmly against the small of his back.

He struggled feebly for a moment, but _God oh God oh shit that's his penis_ kept running through his mind. Tingling heat surged through his belly, making him grunt and arch back against Gilbert almost involuntarily, and he hoped to God Gilbert would just think he was trying to get away.

Gilbert had been laughing just a moment ago, but now he stopped. There was a single, breathless second in which Ludwig could feel his chest and stomach pressing into his back, strong arms encircling him, stronger thighs gripping like vices around his hips, and so so much blissful skin against skin—

And then Gilbert released him. Ludwig turned reluctantly to his brother as they both caught their breath.

Gilbert laughed a little, and Ludwig wasn't entirely sure it sounded as carefree as before.

"Well, guess I won, huh?" he asked, only briefly meeting Ludwig's eyes before his red orbs flitted away again.

"Yeah," Ludwig panted. "Guess so." _Shit shit shit he couldn't tell, could he? There's no way he could tell!_

Suddenly a rumbling came from above. The boys looked up to see cloud-covered skies where moments ago had been blue. They had been so preoccupied with their game they hadn't noticed the shift in the weather.

"Aw, shit man!" Gilbert whined as the first few drops of precipitation landed on their cheeks.

Ludwig groaned. "I knew you should have checked the weather…"

"But it was so nice! How was I supposed to know?!"

"Uh, by _checking the weather_ …"

"Oh never mind."

"We better get back in in case there's lightning." Ludwig started back for shore followed closely by his brother.

The rainstorm was coming in quickly, with more and more drops falling each second. By the time Ludwig and Gilbert were halfway, it was coming down in sheets.

"Gilbert, our clothes!" Ludwig shouted back over roar of rain hitting the lake surface.

"Who cares, they'll dry," he yelled back.

Ludwig groaned again and practically doubled his pace back to the beach. He scampered up the rocky path to their outlook, grateful for how smooth and easy on the feet the local limestone was. When he reached his pile of clothes it was already a wet heap of cloth. He fumbled with the underwear for a few seconds, wondering if he could get it on, uncomfortable as that would be.

"Don't bother!" shouted Gilbert as he came up the path and grabbed his own bundle. "Let's just get out of here!"

Ludwig sighed, but followed Gilbert back down the path anyway. He didn't especially like the idea of running through the woods naked in the rain, but… if it meant he got that nice view of Gilbert's ass swaying in front of him for the next few minutes, maybe it wouldn't be all that bad…

He mentally slapped himself. _Perv._

_But, looking's not a crime, right?_

Gilbert's sleek white body ran ahead of him down the path towards the cabin. Ludwig stayed just behind, clutching his clothes to his chest and enjoying the way that Gilbert's torso twisted as he ran, the way those two perfectly round, pale globes flexed and bounced with every step.

Actually, purely objectively speaking, Gilbert had a _really nice ass_. Ludwig wondered briefly if his brother had a special workout for it. It was just so fucking round, not saggy at all… it must be very soft, too, such perfect, milky skin…

Ludwig felt something stir in his groin and looked down in horror. _No. Not now._ But there, sure enough, was the beginning of a boner.

Ludwig blushed as he looked back at Gilbert ahead of him. They were almost to the cabin, but, surely Gilbert wouldn't notice… He could hide it, maybe, with his pile of clothes, or perhaps run straight to the shower under pretext of getting warm and clean.

Once through the door, they stood panting and shivering, Ludwig awkwardly clutching his sopping wet clothes in front of his crotch and trying not to make his problem any worse by looking at his brother.

"We should clean our feet before we track mud everywhere," he managed to say casually.

Ludwig quickly rubbed his feet off on the entryway mat before heading to the bathroom. "Uh, I'm going to go shower," he said over his shoulder, trying not to blush at the sight of naked Gilbert standing on the doormat.

"Hey wait a sec, grab me a towel will ya? This mat's not doing the trick, there's mud like, between my toes and everything."

"Uh, sure. Hang on."

Ludwig rushed into the bathroom and quickly found a towel to wrap around his waist. His erection didn't show through the towel if he just leaned forward a little. He grabbed a towel for Gilbert's feet, and on second thought, grabbed a large one for Gilbert to wrap himself in as well.

When he handed the foot towel to him, Gilbert insisted on holding on to Ludwig's arm for balance as he picked both feet up individually to give them a thorough cleaning. Ludwig was glad his brother was bent over and couldn't see his blush, because Gilbert hadn't wrapped the other towel around him yet and God his head really was awfully near to Ludwig's hidden problem…

He could feel his member poking at the terry fabric of the towel.

_No. Deep breaths. Now go back down, please please please._

But Ludwig knew it was useless to try to will a boner away.

He was practically sweating bullets by the time Gilbert straightened up and finally, _finally_ decided to wrap the towel around his hips. Disaster averted.

"You should go stand by the heater so you don't catch chill," Ludwig advised as he thankfully headed back towards the bathroom.

"Kesese, glad you care so much, Luddy," Gilbert teased as he headed to the heating unit in the corner of the room.

In the shower, alone with his thoughts and the welcoming warm water hitting his back, Ludwig replayed what had happened in the lake. It was difficult to say whether Gilbert had simply taken Ludwig's ceasing to struggle as a sign of surrender, or if he had been just as awkwardly aware of their nakedness, and if that had made him uncomfortable.

He wondered, as he so often did nowadays, how Gilbert might react to a confession or discovery of Ludwig's feelings. He always tended to think it would be with disgust and shock, but, was there any possibility of something better? Gilbert had always loved Ludwig so much, was it too far a stretch to think that he might harbor similar feelings, or that he might not be averse to experimenting a bit with his dear, beloved brother?

But then, Gilbert was always going on about how his job was to protect him. He'd probably be horrified by the idea of transgressing his role as older brother in such a way. And Ludwig couldn't blame him, especially as he had so many memories of cute little baby brother Luddy. Who would want to have sex with someone they'd seen learn how to swim, with someone they'd seen grow up?

With a heavy sigh, Ludwig turned off the water and stepped out of the shower to give Gilbert his turn.

…

After a delicious late dinner of leftover sauerkraut and wurst their father had packed for them, Gilbert pulled a six-pack from the fridge and set it on the coffee table, then flopped down on the couch.

"Care to unwind with a beer?" Gilbert grinned at him.

"Sure." Ludwig went over to the couch and sat down next to his brother. His gut twinged in excitement just at their proximity.

_Pathetic_ , Ludwig scoffed at himself.

Gilbert uncapped a beer and handed it to him. They chatted for a while about school and classes. Ludwig tried to figure out natural-seeming ways to scoot closer, and wondered if Gilbert would even let him put an arm around him.

Gilbert seemed not to notice until Ludwig got up to move a pillow behind his back and then sat back down with their legs barely touching.

"Uh, Lud, y'know we've got a whole couch here if you wanna spread out."

Ludwig couldn't tell if it was just an observance of fact, or if Gilbert really wanted him to move. He was kind of squashed up against the armrest, though.

"Oh, I, sorry, should I move?" he asked, pretending to be surprised. He felt a little guilty, but he really just wanted to be close to Gilbert.

Gilbert shrugged. "I dunno, just sayin'."

Ludwig looked at the couch a moment. He didn't want to move, but how could he make that not awkward?

"Well…" he started slowly, not sure if this was the right approach. "I guess… I just wanted to be close to you." He shrugged a little, trying to make it sound like no big deal. It couldn't hurt to try honesty every once in a while, right?

Gilbert looked confused for a moment. "Oh, uh, okay…"

_Shit. This is definitely awkward. Okay, no going back now, might as well just go for it._

He slung an arm around his brother's shoulders and leaned into him. "Um, thanks Gil. This is a great birthday present." He hoped to God he didn't look as red as he felt.

Gilbert smiled a little and moved his arm around Ludwig's shoulders in return. "Well what d'ya expect? I always give the most awesome birthday presents, don't I?"

Ludwig rolled his eyes, but smiled back.

They sipped their beers in silence for a while, and Ludwig was content just to be so close to his brother, just to feel his warmth.

Finally Gilbert asked, quietly, "Is everything alright, Lud?"

Ludwig looked down at the bottle in his hand. He shrugged. "Of course."

Gilbert looked at him for a moment, then back to his own bottle. "You can talk to me, you know."

Ludwig swallowed. "I know." But he didn't know, or rather, Gilbert didn't know. He didn't know that there was this one thing, this one unthinkable thing that Ludwig could never, ever talk to him about. This thing he could never know.

Ludwig rested his head down on Gilbert's shoulder. Just being with him like that, simply sitting together with their arms around each other, felt for a moment like it should be enough. How could he ever want something more than this perfect, peaceful, comforting togetherness? But then his brain registered how close he really was, how Gilbert's chest rose and fell under the thin fabric of his shirt, how the hollow of his throat stood out sharply against a dull background, and that cognizance of Gilbert's body stirred the familiar longing in his chest, and worse yet, awakened that baser feeling in is gut of wantwantwant.

But he stayed there, feeling perfectly warm and perfectly miserable.

Gilbert laughed slightly, and Ludwig could feel the vibrations of the sound through his shoulder. "You know what this place always reminds me of?"

"Mm?"

"That song Dad used to sing when we were little."

"Which one?"

"Kesese, I think that's the only song he ever sang. I don't remember the name though. It went something like—" and he began to sing.

" _Da da da dee da-da, und auch zwei Flüglein hätt, Flög ich zu dir, dee da-da da da da, dee da-da da da da, Bleib ich allhier._ Or somethin' like that. Can't remember it all."

"Yeah, I do remember it though. Wasn't that… _Wenn ich ein Vöglein wär_?"

"Oh yeah! You're right! So what was it, it was like, _Wenn ich ein Vöglein wär, Und auch zwei Flüglein hätt, Flög ich zu dir,_ oh, and then: _Weils aber nicht kann sein, Weils aber nicht kann sein, Bleib ich allhier._ " He finished smiling, proud to have remembered the words.

For having such a distinctively scratchy and cutting speaking voice, Ludwig thought his brother had a surprisingly nice tenor.

"Yeah, that was it," he said. "And then the next verse started with _Bin ich gleich weit von dir_ …"

They struggled with the words for a minute before managing to dredge all the lyrics up from some forgotten corner of their brains. They sang together:

_Bin ich gleich weit von dir,_  
Bin doch im Traum bei dir  
Und red mit dir.  
Wenn ich erwachen tu,  
Wenn ich erwachen tu,  
Bin ich allein. 

Ludwig smiled. Now that Gilbert reminded him, he could remember his father singing that song to them in that very cabin when they were younger.

"Hm, kinda a sad song actually, isn't it?" Gilbert said thoughtfully. "Wonder why he always sang that one."

Ludwig shrugged. He hadn't really thought about the words. _When I awake, I am alone._ It was a sad song, come to think of it.

"Kinda funny though too," Gilbert added. " _If I were a little bird?_ That'd be pretty awesome actually."

Ludwig snorted. "You'd want to be a bird?"

"Well sure! Then I could fly! Come on, that'd be totally awesome." He removed his arm from Ludwig's shoulder's to gesture while he talked. Ludwig wondered if it was awkward for him to keep his arm around Gilbert's shoulders, but decided he was going to anyway.

"Whatever."

"No, seriously… Well, okay, maybe I wouldn't want to be a bird, but I think a little bird would be an awesome pet."

"Oh yeah? What do they do though?"

"I dunno, they sing and stuff! And they're cute! Hey, hey Lud, you know what I'd name a pet bird if I had one?"

"…What?"

"Gilbird! Kesese, isn't that awesome?"

Ludwig would have facepalmed if both hands hadn't been occupied. But he had to laugh a little. "Wow, Gilbert, wow."

"I know, it's brilliant."

Ludwig snorted. He wished Gilbert would put his arm back around him though.

Gilbert yawned. "Hey Lud, I think I'm gonna go shower and get ready for bed." He started to get up from the couch, much to Ludwig's disappointment.

"Didn't you shower earlier?"

"Yeah but I didn't actually wash my hair or anything. I like to shower at night."

"Oh. Okay."

Gilbert disappeared into the bedroom while Ludwig cleared the bottles away and washed the dinner dishes. When he was done he went into the bedroom to strip to his boxers for the night and fold his clothes. He wondered what the thing with the arms on the couch had been about. Nothing, probably, but he wondered why Gilbert hadn't kept his arm around him.

Suddenly he heard a loud _thud_ and a string of curses coming from the bathroom.

He straightened up, frowning. "Gil? You okay?"

"Ow, _motherfucker! Ow!_ " was the muffled response he heard beneath the running water of the shower.

Concerned, he went to the bathroom door and knocked. "Gilbert? Everything okay?"

"Shit shit _shit shit fuck—_ "

Slightly alarmed, he cracked the door open and peeked inside.

Gilbert was lying in the bottom of the bathtub, clutching the back of his head.

"Gilbert! Are you alright?" Ludwig asked, striding forward and shutting off the shower.

"Yeah, I—ouch! Jesus—just slipped, that's all."

"Did you hit your head? Let me see—"

"It's fine, don't worry—"

"Gilbert, you're bleeding! Let me see that. What did you hit your head on?"

"I dunno, I think it was on the faucet…"

"That's thing's sharp! Come on, I need to look at this."

Grumbling, Gilbert let himself be hauled out of the bathtub. Ludwig maneuvered him to stand under the light and started gently combing through his hair, which was starting to stain red.

"Ow…" Gilbert whimpered.

"Sorry, just trying to get a clear view of it…" Ludwig vaguely registered that his brother was still naked, but he was too focused on his injury to think about it too much. Gilbert gritted his teeth, and finally Ludwig managed to part his hair in such a way that he could see the cut.

"Hm. It's pretty long, but it doesn't look too deep. We should clean it though."

He had Gilbert lean over the sink so he could pour cool water over it, then he wet a washcloth and used some soap to clean around the cut. Blood was still oozing from it, however, so it seemed that cleaning Gilbert's hair was a lost cause.

Ludwig squinted at the injury. "There's an awful lot of blood…"

"Oh don't worry about that, head wounds just bleed a lot so they look worse than they are," Gilbert assured him, though he cringed a little.

"Does it hurt?"

"Eh, not bad…"

Ludwig could tell he was trying to be stoic. "I'll get you some ibuprofen."

Gilbert sighed but nodded.

Ludwig fished the bottle of pills from his suitcase and poured out two for his brother, who swallowed them thankfully.

"What about the pillows though? I don't wanna bleed all over them."

"Just fold a towel behind your head. That ought to help stop the bleeding too."

"Okay."

Suddenly Gilbert turned to him and hugged him tightly. Ludwig blinked in surprise and was about to yell about getting him all wet, since Gilbert hadn't toweled off yet, when he realized that his brother was holding him, naked.

Ludwig swallowed. Twice in one day… was this heaven or hell?

He let his arms close around Gilbert's torso, caressing as much soft flesh as possible, one hand wandering down as far as he dared go.

Gilbert sighed. "Thanks for taking care of me."

Again, Ludwig was surprised. "…Of course, Gilbert." He enjoyed hugging him for a moment, hands pressing between his shoulder blades and into the small of his back, chests rubbing together with their breathing, but then Gilbert pulled away quite abruptly.

He reached for a towel and started drying himself as Ludwig stood there, confused. Was this some sort of weird pattern today? Getting close, then suddenly pulling apart? Or was he reading into things too much?

They finished their routines and Gilbert donned his boxers, though Ludwig had to catch a trickle of blood going down his back more than once. Gilbert folded a fresh towel over his pillow and they crawled into bed.

Ludwig wished he could curl up close to Gilbert, perhaps on the pretense of comforting him, but he didn't want to disturb his position when he had to keep his head on the towel.

"Fucking hurts…" Gilbert mumbled after Ludwig switched off the last lamp.

Ludwig looked at where he knew Gilbert was in the darkness of the room. "Do you… need anything? Sure we shouldn't go to a doctor?"

"Don't be ridiculous, I just like whining. Good night Lud, sleep tight."

"…Okay. Night. Love you."

"Love you too," Gilbert mumbled back sleepily.

…

Ludwig was having a dream.

He and Gilbert were sitting in a very ordinary kitchen, but not one he knew. They were just sitting, side by side, maybe talking a little, when Gilbert took Ludwig's hand in his and leaned over to kiss his brother on the lips. Just like that, very simple. As if there were nothing strange about it at all.

But the kiss was wonderful. Ludwig could feel the wetness and smoothness and warmth of Gilbert's mouth on his, and it seemed to go on and on like it would never end, like it was all that existed, like they were two mouths joined together and nothing more.

And he was so happy, just floating on that kiss.

And then he woke up.

Immediately, he noticed that the weight of the blankets on his crotch was somewhat uncomfortable. Goddamn erections.

He had no idea what time it was. Late. He glanced to his left where he knew Gilbert was sleeping. He could just barely make out the outline of his peaceful profile.

_Oh God, Gilbert, I want you so bad…_

But he had dreamed about it. He had no control over his dreams. That meant that this thing, this insidious desire, had permeated his subconscious so far as to invade his dreams now. He couldn't even escape it in sleep.

And how long would it go on like this? Because really, Ludwig knew it was ridiculous to think he and Gilbert would actually ever have sex. They were brothers, for God's sake. It wasn't going to happen, and honestly there were plenty of good reasons for it not to.

But if he was dreaming about kissing Gilbert now, could he ever hope to be normal again? Or would he be forced to live his entire life wanting Gilbert, feeling like he did now, so unbearably close and so impossibly far, and never being fulfilled?

His hand snaked under the blankets to his crotch and brushed ever so slightly against his flimsy boxers. _God, Gilbert… oh God oh God…_

He couldn't help himself. Or maybe he could have, but he didn't, foul, depraved creature that he knew he was.

He reached into his boxers to run two fingers along his length, sighing at the soft contact.

He watched his brother's barely visible, still features in the darkness as his grip slowly wound around his shaft.

_You can't do this, not in the same bed as your brother, not watching him sleep…_

_But I already tasted his cum, didn't I? I already masturbated to his semen, like some desperate whore… What could be worse?_

_What if he wakes up?_

_I'll be silent. I won't disturb him._

Slowly, Ludwig brought his knees up to create a little tent under the blankets where his hands could move freely.

It was surreal. Ludwig felt as though this couldn't be happening, this couldn't really be Gilbert there next to him as he touched himself. If Ludwig was the only one in the world who knew… how real was it anyway? Gilbert would wake up and be none the wiser. It would be as if it never happened. Ludwig could even pretend it had never happened, that he had never sunk this low.

But oh, it was exhilarating. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the dark he feasted them on his brother's graceful features three feet away on the pillows. And his hand slowly teased his member, trailing up, circling the head, then back down in luxurious strokes that made his breath catch in his throat. He palmed his balls at the same time, rolling and squeezing, then twisting the base of his shaft, and back to rolling and squeezing.

_Ooo, Gilbert, yesss…_

Finger rubbing his slit. Hand twisting up and down along his length, tight tight tight. More fingers, pressing along the vein on the underside. All Gilbert's. Gilbert touching him, Gilbert bringing him to pleasure.

He stifled a gasp as he smeared precum around the head and hit the sensitive underside of the glans, brushing his fingers over the tissue there several more times and barely containing the shudders that ran through his body.

_Oh God yes yes Gilbert right there, again, brother, again… ffffuck…_

Ludwig bit his lip to keep his sounds in as he continued to work his cock up and down, up and down, eyes never leaving Gilbert's face except for when he had to screw them shut in pleaure.

_GOD YES Gilbert, oo oo shit yesyesyes please oh fuck oh fuck Gilbert Gilbert Gilgilgilgil that feels so good—_

He was moving quickly now, his right hand desperately rubbing up and down and over the head as he brought his left hand to his mouth to bite down on it. He couldn't let anything escape, he couldn't have Gilbert wake up now. Then it would all be real, then it would all come crashing down around him—

_Fuck fuck fuck yes Gilbert! Oh God Gilbert, please, more, moremoremore oooo make me cum I wanna cum I wanna cum for you brother—_

He was on the edge, he could feel it so close, the heat surging through his gut, the pressure in his groin and God oh God he was going to be looking at his brother's face as he came, he was going to be looking at Gilbert, and there was probably a special place in hell for people who orgasm while looking at a sibling's innocent face but Ludwig would gladly go there if he—could—just—

_FFFUCK! Oh God YES Gilbert, BROTHER—!!_

He trembled as he felt the relief of that thick liquid coursing through his cock and spurting into his hand. A few more jerking pumps from his shaky hand and he was spent, muscles unclenching, skin hot from the exertion.

He blinked. Gilbert's face was still there in front of him, just as unchanged as ever. Ludwig straightened out his legs shakily, feeling how the area behind his knees was slick with sweat, and removed his hand from his mouth, wincing slightly at the way his teeth stuck to the flesh he had bitten so hard. He gingerly reached over the side of the bed to wipe his hand off on the edge of the sheets, and lay there, catching his breath.

He examined his brother's face mournfully. _I'm sorry Gilbert. I'm sorry I did this to you. I'm no good, no good for you._

And with that he rolled over and tried to find sleep again, with his back to his brother.

…

He awoke to his alarm with the vague disorientation of one sleeping in a new place, but quickly shut off the alarm as he realized where he was. And what he had done last night. But he pushed that aside.

The room was still fairly dark, as the window was closed, but Ludwig decided to let that be. He could get his shower and let Gilbert sleep a little more.

He collected his things in the dark and went into the bathroom. As he showered, he tried not to think of the previous night's activities, nor of the smear of evidence he'd surely find on the edge of the bed sheets if he cared to look.

He dried and dressed and went back into the room. He glanced over at his brother's still peacefully sleeping form.

Ludwig felt dirty.

But he figured he had to face him some time. "Hey, Gilbert," he said softly, trying to wake him as gently as possible.

No response. Ludwig sighed and went to his brother's side. Gilbert was a heavy sleeper. _Which was a good thing last night. Ugh God no, don't think about that, just forget about that._

He leaned over his brother and touched his shoulder. "Gilbert."

Nothing.

Alright, he was going to have to do this the hard way. Gilbert hated bright lights in general, and with good reason, but in the morning was even worse. Ludwig flicked on the lamp on the bedside table and flooded the corner of the room with light.

"Come on, Gilbert, time to—"

And that's when he saw the blood.

Ludwig's stomach turned to ice.

Behind Gilbert's head the once-white towel had turned a deep crimson, staining into the pillow around it as well.

One little cut should not have produced so much blood.

Ludwig's hands shook and he could have sworn blackness nearly overtook his vision. He seized Gilbert's shoulders.

"Gilbert! GILBERT! WAKE UP!"

But Gilbert did not wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation for Wenn ich ein Vöglein wär:
> 
> If I were a little bird  
> And had two little wings,  
> I'd fly to you.  
> But as it can't be  
> But as it can't be,  
> I always stay here.
> 
> I'm also far from you,  
> I'm by your side in dreams  
> And I talk to you.  
> When I wake up,  
> When I wake up,  
> I'm on my own.
> 
> A sad and beautiful children's song. You can listen to it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9xU3kC4MsaQ&list=HL1333590992&feature=mh_lolz
> 
> Next chapter: what's wrong with Gil?


	16. Chapter 11

"GILBERT! GILBERT, _COME ON, GILBERT!_ "

Ludwig's throat was constricted tight and some terrible, sickening thing was wrapping around his stomach. He shook his brother's shoulders again. Gilbert's head simply lolled back against the blood-drenched towel.

_No. No no nonono—Pulse. Pulse does he have a pulse—_

His hand flew to Gilbert's neck.

 _Please please ohgodplease_ —There! A pulse—so faint though, so far between—

And then everything was oddly, eerily clear.

_Ambulance. You need to call an ambulance. To do that, you need to call the emergency number for the lodge. For that you need to go to the telephone._

Ludwig was at the phone without realizing he had walked there. His finger was dialing the number. And then his voice came out of his throat, so calm, so strange, not his own: "Yes, there's an emergency in cabin 5D, my brother needs medical attention immediately—" and questions and answers and "blood loss" and "apply pressure" and then the phone was hung up again and the thing in his stomach almost came alive at the sight of the red smear on the appliance that must have come from his hands, but he swallowed it down because he wasn't done, he had a job to do—

And then, muscles aching from the simple effort of crossing the room, he was back at Gilbert's side and following the directions he had been given, lifting his brother's limp form so the wound on his head was above the level of his heart and pressing the towel against the gash.

But once he was sure everything was situated correctly, once he was sitting there with a limp body in his arms, alone so utterly alone in a too too silent room, the thing in his stomach trembled, threatening violence. It rolled menacingly and reached up his throat and Ludwig had to close his eyes and will himself not to be sick but now it was filling up his skull and attacking the backs of his eyes, hot and stinging and he couldn't stop the tears and _Gilbert Gilbert just be okay please_ please _just be okay…_

Gilbert's hair was moistened by tears as well as blood as his brother cradled his unfeeling head to his chest, and the murmured chant of "don't die don't die _oh God_ don't you dare die Gilbert" was lost on his senseless ears.

Ludwig squeezed his eyes tighter. The thing was dragging sharp, hot claws through his gut now and _oh GOD_ the emergency vehicle needed to get there RIGHT NOW because he couldn't take this a single second longer and he felt in danger of dying too because he couldn't breathe or maybe he had just forgotten to—

Then finally, the keening siren in the distance, but getting louder quickly _but not quick enough impossible to be quick enough_ —

It couldn't have been more than five minutes with the main building just down the road, but it felt like it had been an eternity of terrible silence and never had Ludwig been so grateful to hear that screeching, blaring sound. Then the spray of gravel under quickly braking tires, hurried footsteps to the door and finally they were inside and he had been yelling "In here, in here!" from the moment they pulled into driveway. He didn't stop yelling it until he felt urgent, sure hands pulling him away from his brother and Gilbert was slipping out of his arms and the claws tightened painfully in his stomach. But _they're here, they're here and now everything will be alright_ he told himself, forcing himself to think that and only that as he watched Gilbert being lifted onto a stretcher and carried out of the room, out of the cabin, and into the back of a van out of view.

The doors slammed shut. Ludwig stood there dumbly for a moment, staring at the back of the van as if he could bore through the metal with his eyes, but a hand on his shoulder pulled his gaze away.

"Come on, sit up front," the EMT said, all business and quiet urgency as she headed for the driver's seat. Ludwig's legs automatically complied and he found himself in the passenger's seat and then they were already speeding off down the narrow road.

 _So this is what it's like to ride in a vehicle with a siren,_ he thought disconnectedly before turning back to try to get a glimpse of his brother. But there was a window separating them and an EMT had his broad back to it and was blocking Gilbert from view. It looked like they were doing, something, to him though.

The thing in Ludwig's stomach reminded him of its presence with a particularly sharp lashing out and he wished for nothing more than for that stupid goddamn window to dissolve so he could be back there too, back there with his brother where he belonged.

The arrival at the Emergency Department was a blur of uniforms and glass doors and the occasional glimpse of Gilbert's face, peaceful and unchanging through it all. They came to a room and Gilbert was wheeled inside while Ludwig was briefly questioned by someone in scrubs: how had the injury occurred, was the patient under the influence of drugs or alcohol, had he taken any medications?

Ludwig answered but really he just wanted to get past this person and into the room to see Gilbert. But then another staff member approached him and she was saying, "I'm sorry sir, but we don't allow anyone to accompany the patient except in parent-child cases; you'll have to take a seat in the waiting area."

Ludwig just blinked at her for a moment. No, there had to be some misunderstanding—"But I— I'm his brother, I need to see him—"

"I'm sorry sir but that won't be possible. It's for the good of the patient, to minimize interference—"

"But it's good for him to have me there! He'd want me there, I know he would!"

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down—Sir, take a step back, please."

Ludwig didn't even realize he'd been trying to push past her and through the door. The door blocking him from Gilbert.

"But... I need to see him, please…"

"We'll keep you updated about his condition. You'll be able to see your brother later, at the digression of the medical personnel. This is so that your brother can receive the best care possible, I'm sure you understand."

But Ludwig didn't understand. His chest was aching and that terrible creature was wriggling about inside of him, refusing to calm down, and he need need needed to see Gilbert—

But the woman was guiding him away from the door and with each stumbling step down the hall he was carried further away from where he needed to be.

"But I…"

"You'll need to go in here to clean up a bit, alright?" The woman was pointing to a bathroom door.

"Huh?" Then Ludwig looked down at himself, and became quite suddenly aware of what a spectacle he must be. He was clad only in his boxers, because he had not thought to grab a coat or shoes, and sticky rust-colored blood was drying on his hands and had been smeared on his bare chest as well.

Gilbert's blood.

"I'll bring you a gown and slippers too, so they won't kick you out for dress code violation."

"…Oh…" he responded vaguely, staring at his palms and the way the minute creases in his skin were highlighted in red.

He entered the bathroom in a daze and went to the sink and turned on the water. He ran his hands under it and watched it turn orange-ish with blood before swirling down the drain.

Gilbert's blood.

He glanced in the mirror and almost had to take a step back. How had it managed to get on his chin, even his forehead like that? Perhaps he had been touching his face…

 _There's so much,_ he kept on thinking as he scrubbed bloody fingerprints from his cheeks, his chest, a shoulder, cleaned under his nails.

_Gilbert's blood._

Gilbert had lost so much blood and he was in that room and Ludwig was here instead of there and that wasn't how it should be.

 _I should be there, I should be there,_ he kept thinking helplessly as he stared at the water pouring over his hands and down the sink until it finally ran clear.

_I should be there._

_But I'm not._

…

Ludwig hated hospitals. He despised them. He loathed them.

Everything about them, every tiny detail from the too-clean, chemical-clean smell, to the glaring fluorescent lights, to how bright and shiny everything was, gleaming white walls, gleaming reception counter, to the self-important doctors walking by with their clipboards and even the nurses or surgeons or whoever the hell they were—he hated them all, and he knew it was irrational but he did, because not one of them had bothered to stop and tell him what the fuck was going on with his brother. He had been informed Gilbert would receive an emergency blood transfusion, and that was the last he'd heard before he'd been ushered into the waiting area.

And so he sat.

And sat.

And sat.

Waiting.

Waiting in his flimsy hospital gown that he hated too and those not quite big enough slippers, watching other people waiting and watching, sometimes catching them in the act of appraising his odd outfit. He decided he hated them, too, the people who were there for a cold or a minor sprain who calmly approached the receptionist and weren't in the least bit worried about themselves or a loved one dying in the next few minutes.

He hated the magazines on the tables beside the chairs and he hated the chairs because they weren't even remotely comfortable and he hated the pattern of tiles on the floor and he hated those generic postcard pictures of tropical beaches on the wall across from him.

It became almost like a game, listing all the things he hated at the moment. It took his mind off of what was really going on, what really mattered. If he thought about that too much, he was fairly certain he'd go insane. Not knowing what was happening to Gilbert right now, not knowing how close his brother might be to death—

No. His mind recoiled automatically at the thought. That was a place he could not go.

And so it was back to hating; hating the lamps on the tables, hating that one nurse's bored expression, hating another's nasally voice, hating the shoes the wheezing man sitting across from him was wearing.

But most of all he hated himself.

Because in the end, he didn't deserve to keep his brother. Gilbert deserved to live, yes, but certainly not for Ludwig. Not for the brother who had betrayed him, the brother who had dirtied and debased himself and Gilbert too, the brother who had besmirched all that a brother was supposed to be…

Who had been too busy seeking his own perverse pleasure to realize his brother's life was in danger.

How could he… how could he have done that? Filthy, vile, disgusting, sick, selfish, sordid, repulsive, revolting—Ludwig's vocabulary wasn't big enough to accommodate the string of self-abuse he was directing at himself.

This was his fault. All his fault. Gilbert's blood was on his hands. Even if he'd watched it wash down the drain it was still on his hands; if Gilbert died it would be because of him, he would have killed his own brother.

That oddly disconnected, commenting side of him remarked that it would be so morbidly appropriate, the literal death, even murder, following the symbolic death, certainly murder, of a brotherly bond. But then Ludwig sighed and told himself not to be overdramatic or over-poetic or over-whatever because those things didn't matter in real life, in the here and now—what mattered was whether Gilbert came out of that room alive or…

No. Don't think it.

_God I fucking hate that woman's purse. It's nearly as bad as that guy's shiny bald spot. God I'm starting to sound like Gilbert, who better still be around to sound like himself after today—stop thinking about that. That kid in the corner needs to learn to shut the fuck up._

_I fucking hate hospitals._

…

"Mr. Beilschmidt?"

Ludwig nearly jumped out of his skin. He'd been resting his head back against the wall, eyes closed but not asleep. Just trying to fight down the thing that was still there in his gut, determined to make him lose the contents of his stomach, though he realized he hadn't eaten since dinner the night before.

Not that he was hungry.

He had begun to think that maybe his hospital gown blended in too well with the hospital walls and he would just sit there unnoticed for a full 24 hours when a scrub-clad nurse had approached him.

"Mr. Beilschmidt?" she repeated.

Ludwig nodded, breathless. He couldn't read her expression. It was just, so, blank. Good or bad? The thing in his stomach was gaining more leverage in their struggle with each passing moment.

_Say it already just say it say it—_

"I just wanted to let you know—"

_Say it fucking say it—_

"—your brother's condition seems to be stabilizing. He's still unconscious, but so far his body is accepting the blood just fine."

She gave him a smile that was probably meant to be reassuring.

He asked the one question in his mind: "Can I see him?"

The smile disappeared. "I'm sorry, but you won't be able to see him just yet. We'll let you know as soon as that's a possibility."

Ludwig just stared at her. There was nothing else to say, because nothing else mattered.

Her smile returned, but only half-heartedly. "I'll keep you updated about what's going on with him, okay?"

She nodded awkwardly when she didn't get a response, then turned and strode back through the doors to the ward.

Ludwig's gaze drifted to the floor.

Gilbert wasn't going to die, he was—what had she said? Stabilizing? That was good, that was a good thing, and soon this would be over and Gilbert would be just fine because that's how it _had_ to be, because Ludwig couldn't handle the possibility that he might not be fine.

The beast in his stomach was quelled somewhat, but it still took all of Ludwig's self-control to keep it at bay.

…

Ludwig wished he didn't have to keep on sitting there. He wanted to get up, go to the bathroom or the cafeteria just for the sake of moving, doing something, anything other than just sitting and waiting. But he was worried then he'd miss some information about Gilbert. No, he needed to stay there and wait for news.

For another two hours he watched every nurse, every doctor that came into the waiting area, clinging to the hope that their footsteps would turn in his direction.

When a tall doctor carrying a clipboard appeared and stood near the doors scanning the room, he just knew he was looking for him. Sure enough, when the doctor spotted him he headed in his direction.

"Are you Mr. Beilschmidt?" he asked tentatively once he had reached Ludwig.

"Yes." Ludwig leaned forward, staring at the doctor hard as if he could read his mind, find out whatever he had to say sooner.

"Ah, I'm Dr. Gannon, I've been looking after your brother Gilbert. Do you mind, uh, stepping aside and just answering a few questions, to the best of your knowledge?"

"Sure." Ludwig rose and followed the doctor to the side of the room. "Can I see him yet?"

Dr. Gannon smiled ruefully. "Ah, not yet, procedural nonsense et cetera." The way he said "et cetera" somehow made it sound like real Latin words rather than the usual abbreviation "etc." "It's a crappy rule, I know." _Talk about it._ "But soon."

He flipped through the papers on his clipboard. "So I looked up your brother's records. He was diagnosed with oculocutaneous albinism when he was very young, is that right?"

 _You have the charts, why are you asking me?_ "Yes, that's correct."

The doctor pushed his glasses up his nose. "Hm. Do you know if he's had any problems in the past or recently with bleeding?"

Ludwig blinked. "No, not that… wait. Well, he did get a nosebleed recently; he had to get it cauterized because he said it wouldn't… stop bleeding."

The doctor nodded to himself. Ludwig waited in anticipation.

"Alright, I'm going to run a few blood tests. It's possible that that was a misdiagnosis. There's a less common condition called Hermansky-Pudlak syndrome that causes albinism as well as a bleeding diathesis resulting from a platelet storage pool deficiency, sometimes accompanied by pulmonary fibrosis—" Suddenly Dr. Gannon seemed to realize that Ludwig was completely lost. "Uh, sorry, I mean, it causes a bleeding disorder due to things, that… well, anyway, it can cause fatal lung and bowel disease later in life too. But, we don't know if that's really what he has yet, so that's why I am ordering the blood tests."

Ludwig stared at him. Bleeding disorder? _Fatal_ lung and bowel disease? Herman-something-or-other syndrome? _Syndrome_. He didn't like that word. It was just a scientific way of saying there was something wrong with a person.

"But… is… He's going to be okay, right?" _Right?_

"Oh well, I mean right now he'll be just fine. The transfusion's gone smoothly—well, so far, I mean, there can be last minute complications, and an allergic reaction might take some time to show up, but his blood pressure's returning to normal, and the cut itself isn't a threat, we stitched that right up; it's just that the scalp is rich in blood vessels so he lost a lot of blood. Good thing you got him to us when you did, he wouldn't have lasted much longer. But he should be regaining consciousness soon." Dr. Gannon smiled mildly, as if he had been commenting on the weather.

Ludwig looked at him dubiously. He felt like this doctor should really stick to treating unconscious patients and leave the human interaction to someone else. Ludwig just wanted to see Gilbert, and _now_ , because no matter what any doctors said he had to make sure for himself that his brother was alright.

"Dr. Gannon!"

They turned to see the nurse from before approaching.

"The patient's woken up, will you—"

"My brother?" Ludwig cut in immediately. "How is he?"

"Oh, well, would you look at that timing!" Dr. Gannon said cheerfully.

Ludwig ignored him, staring intently at the nurse.

"Oh, I think he's going to be just fine." She smiled.

 _Just fine. Medical types like that phrase, don't they? But what does that even mean,_ just _fine?_

"Great, I'll take a look at him," Dr. Gannon said.

"Can I come?"

"Well, I'll have to examine him first—"

"Ah—" the nurse cut in. "Actually, doctor, the patient has been, ah, pretty adamant about seeing his brother—I told him I'd bring him in to calm him down…"

"Oh." The doctor blinked. He raised his eyebrows at Ludwig. "Well, then, can't have the patient throwing a tantrum—tends to end in malpractice suits. Come along."

Ludwig furrowed his eyebrows. He thought Dr. Gannon was joking, but, he wasn't entirely certain with this man. He pushed that from his mind quickly though, and followed the nurse and doctor eagerly out of the waiting room.

The walk down the hall seemed like an eternity to Ludwig. He wanted to break into a run, to get to Gilbert _now_ , but at the same time, now that he could finally see his brother, he wasn't sure that he could face him. Could he look him in the eye, embrace him, after what he'd done? Gilbert would be happy to see him, he would be completely oblivious, oblivious of how tainted Ludwig was, how guilty, guilty, guilty. Guilty of almost letting his brother die.

 _Killing him with love_ , Ludwig thought ruefully.

But then they were at the door to his room. The nurse opened it and he followed Dr. Gannon inside.

"Did you bring him? You better bring him right now or—Lud!"

There was Gilbert, most definitely alive, eyes alight as he stared at Ludwig from where he lay in a hospital gown matching his brother's. A tube lead out of an arm to a bag of blood, and wires seemed to grow out of his gown and connect him to a variety of blinking monitors.

Pure relief washed over Ludwig as he gazed at his brother, sweeping away all his dark musings for the time being.

"Thank God you're here, they keep trying to stick me with needles—I mean would you look at this? I'm like a fucking pin cushion, or a, I dunno, one of those old telephone switchboards, with all those wires coming out." He looked back up at Ludwig. His brow furrowed. "Well don't just stand there, dummy. Give your bro a hug! I just escaped the clutches of death!"

Ludwig realized his feet had planted themselves in the vinyl floor. His mouth opened for a moment but no sound came out. And then he was moving forward, to his brother's side, to wrap his arms around him, though careful of the wires. The nurses cringed but Ludwig didn't care.

"Gilbert…" he muttered into his shoulder, just trying to hold him tight, tight against his chest.

Gilbert returned the embrace automatically, then brought a hand up to the back of Ludwig's head. "Hey, hey there…" he said softly, stroking his hair. Then he laughed. "Kesesese, come on Lud, brighten up! You should be smiling!"

Ludwig just held him tighter. For several moments he couldn't respond, just reveling in the feeling of Gilbert, alive, warm, breathing against him. "I'm, I'm just… so happy you're okay," he managed in a small voice.

Gilbert only tightened his grip around him in response.

After a few moments he spoke. "Hey, what's this? You just wanted to copy the awesome me's uber-chic hospital gown style, or did they force you into one of these too?" he teased, indicating Ludwig's own gown.

Ludwig pulled back from his brother a bit. "Oh, ah, no, I just, didn't have time to grab clothes before coming here."

His blue eyes swiveled up to meet Gilbert's crimson ones, which were shining with concern. Gilbert opened his mouth to speak, but Dr. Gannon cleared his throat none too discreetly.

"Um, well, not to be rude or anything—but, I do have some tests to run on your brother, so, 'scuse me…" He tapped Ludwig on the shoulder.

Gilbert rolled his eyes at the doctor, and Ludwig grudgingly obliged. At least he got to stay in the room.

…

After Dr. Gannon took a sample of Gilbert's blood for testing, the brothers remained there for a few more hours. The nurses came back every once in a while to check on Gilbert and make sure his body was accepting the new blood.

Despite his relatively cheery attitude, Ludwig noticed that Gilbert did seem somewhat wan, paler than even usual. Gilbert made him recount what had happened that morning in more detail than the doctors had given him, and so Ludwig did his best, though he left out just how terrified he had been, and of course, how culpable he felt.

And the worst part was, one of the things that had crossed Ludwig's mind, one of his worries while his brother had lain unconscious, fate uncertain, was that Ludwig would never have the chance to have sex with his brother if he died. That, of all things, had pained him while Gilbert's life was on the line.

Ludwig felt despicable. And he felt even more despicable when the unmistakable surge of hope and excitement in his stomach accompanied the realization that since Gilbert was alive, sex might still be a possibility. But he occupied himself with entertaining his brother rather than dwelling on that.

Finally, Dr. Gannon returned with the lab results. He asked if Gilbert would prefer to hear the results one-on-one, but Gilbert immediately responded that he wanted Ludwig to stay.

"Alrighty then. Well, the test results confirm a platelet storage pool deficiency—that's the stuff that helps blood coagulate. What this means is that you have a pretty rare disease called Hermansky-Pudlak syndrome. It's what causes your albinism, your bleeding disorder, and possibly later in life pulmonary fibrosis or granulomatous colitis," Dr. Gannon rattled off.

Gilbert stared at him apprehensively. "…Which is…?"

"Ah, well, granulomatous colitis is Crohn's disease; it affects the intestines but symptoms are often mild with treatment. Pulmonary fibrosis is scarring of the lungs. Sometimes symptoms are mild, sometimes serious."

Gilbert's face betrayed his frustration. "Well, can I die of it?"

"Ah, yes, yes you can."

Gilbert just looked at the doctor blankly for a moment. Ludwig's eyes went from one to the other.

"But," he interrupted, "you said that's only a possibility, right? I mean, he might not get that at all, right?"

"Well, true, you might be just fine!" he told Gilbert. "But then you might not. So, no smoking. That can definitely increase your risks."

"But… is there a, treatment or something, for this pully-fiber-whatsit?"

"Well, to be perfectly honest, no. For all the so-called achievements of science we're still pathetically limited in some areas. We don't know what causes it, and the best you can do is slow its development."

Ludwig felt like punching the doctor. Gilbert was staying calm, but he recognized the nervousness in his eyes. But then Dr. Gannon's tone softened. "But, hey, don't worry too much about that now. Like your brother said, might not even happen."

"And… when should I worry about it?"

"Mm, mid to late twenties is usually the earliest it shows up in these cases."

A pause. "Oh."

"But, really, what you should concern yourself with is just taking care of you body. You know now that injury has added risks, but that goes for internal bleeding too. You'll have to be extra careful, and don't hesitate to come in to the ER if you have significant bruising."

"Right," Gilbert said, flat tone.

"Okay, well, I'll send you home with some papers, and, uh, the good news is you'll be free to go in just a bit!"

And then he left. Ludwig was relieved.

There was silence for a moment. "Wow, heh, think that guy woulda passed med school if they were tested on bedside manner? Kesese," Gilbert chuckled, looking down at his hands.

Ludwig took one and held it in his own. Gilbert allowed it, much to his relief. "Fuck 'im."

Gilbert looked up at Ludwig in surprise, then started to laugh. "Kesesese, that's right, fuck 'im. Fuck 'em all. And get me the fuck outta here. I fuckin' hate hospitals." His voice, Ludwig was glad to note, was back to its usual animated obnoxiousness.

Ludwig smiled slightly and nodded. "Yeah. Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's actually a little fandom crossover here--Dr. Gannon is Arcade Gannon from Fallout New Vegas. I know, very random. But, I wanted to give the doc some personality, and didn't feel like getting involved in an OC, so I chose Arcade because he is a doctor and I have quite the soft spot for him. He's actually a cool guy. Random crossovers like that will not be a regular occurrence though.
> 
> Next chapter: It's back to school, but Lud's constantly worried about his bro (and plenty of other stuff). Gil, in the meantime, has a visit from Dad to worry about.


	17. Chapter 12

" _Crime and Punishment_. Dostoevsky says surprisingly little about either; at least, not directly. The crime is committed by page 77, and the punishment is relegated to the epilogue. So what is this novel really about? Guilt." Professor Kirkland paused for emphasis. "Guilt plagues Raskolnikov, and his tormented thoughts are really what take up most of the novel. So this is really much more a book on the psychology of a criminal than on the judicial system."

Ludwig kept his eyes down on his notebook. Tormented thoughts of guilt weren't exactly his favorite topic of conversation recently.

"And yet, is Raskolnikov a regular criminal? Does insight into his thoughts provide insight into the thoughts of all murderers?" Kirkland looked around. When no answers seemed forthcoming, he tried a different approach. "Let's start with a direct question about the particular case presented here: was Raskolnikov's confession inevitable?"

Kirkland nodded to Angela. She had taken the seat next to Ludwig again. "I don't think it's inevitable at all—just look at the way the magistrate, uh, Porfiry Petrovich, plays all these mind games with him. He manipulates Raskolnikov, and if that pressure hadn't been there, who's to say that his conscience alone would have driven him to confess? I mean, he doesn't exactly seem to have much a conscience in the first place; he kills in cold blood and it's actually really disturbing how unemotional he is about the whole thing."

"Wait a second," Mathias spoke up. "You think he doesn't have a conscience? I mean, look how he obsesses over his crime afterwards! You can't feel guilt if you don't have a conscience! And Porfiry Petrovich isn't even around all that much. It's just Raskolnikov and his thoughts, and those thoughts are what really drive him to confess in the end. If he weren't already inclined to confess, Porfify Petrovich wouldn't have been able to drive him over the edge. It's all him. From the moment he hit the old lady with axe he was doomed."

 _Doomed._ The word sat uncomfortably in the pit of Ludwig's stomach. He could feel his face flushing as he opened his mouth to say, "But if a criminal is 'doomed' to confess from the moment they commit the crime, why aren't our prisons even more full than they are now? There has to be some really compelling reason for a person to turn themselves in, and for Raskolnikov that's Porfiry and his mind games." _Because I would never turn myself in_ , he added to himself dismally. _I can never confess._

Angela gave him a nod and a small smile of agreement, which Ludwig returned half-heartedly.

"But that's not the point—" Mathias started again, but Kirkland cut in.

"Now let's not jump to any generalizations yet. What's true for Raskolnikov might not be true for every criminal."

"Exactly…" Ludwig heard Mathias mutter.

Ludwig's face burned. Great. Now Professor Kirkland probably thought he was stupid or something. Mathias always had the smarter comments.

"Let's look at one of the exchanges between Porfiry and Raskolnikov, on page 461." There was a rustle of pages, then Kirkland read, "'And if I lock you up in jail, you'll sit there for a month, or maybe two, or maybe three, and then suddenly and—mark my words—on your own, you'll come, perhaps even quite unexpectedly for yourself. You won't know an hour beforehand that you're going to come and confess your guilt. And I'm even sure you'll "decide to embrace suffering"; you won't take my word for it now, but you'll come round to it yourself. Because suffering, Rodion Romanych, is a great thing; don't look at me, fat as I am, that's no matter, but I do know—don't laugh at this—that there is an idea in suffering. Mikolka is right. No, you won't run away, Rodion Romanych.'"

The professor surveyed the classroom. "So, this does beg the question, though, of whether or not Raskolnikov would confess or not had he not heard these words from Porfiry. Does the urge to confess come from within himself, or is it insinuated there by Porfiry? It's similar to the questions we've been asking of reading itself; can reading simply bring to light certain tendencies within a person, or can it plant new seeds of thought or even corruption within the mind? Is Porfiry planting a new seed, or perhaps merely helping to cultivate one?"

Mathias raised his hand again and spoke. "Well, he must just be cultivating one, because it seems pretty clear that Raskolnikov is practically delirious at times; he would go mad if he didn't confess, and I don't think that's just Porfiry's fault."

"Ah!" Professor Kirkland nodded. "Yes, you beat me to my next point: it's not just confession that's at stake here, is it? It's also sanity and madness. It does seem that the only alternative to confession for Raskolnikov is madness, and that's what Porfiry is counting on. Porfiry isn't completely controlling the situation, but his knowledge of psychology gives him the certainty he needs nonetheless. And that psychology is not necessarily particular to Raskolnikov, so here we can, perhaps, make some more universal hypotheses.

Though Raskolnikov may certainly have his particular psychological quirks, is there something to be gathered about human psychology more generally here? Is Dostoevsky saying that every criminal must either confess or go mad? And I don't mean that they'll become a raving lunatic, but, if one is constantly under the pressure to _confess, confess, confess_ , and they're constantly tormented by guilt, might that be a sort of madness of its own? And Dostoevsky certainly seems to be saying that inner torment is a punishment of its own, a suffering far greater than what the assigned punishment would be if the criminal did confess."

Ludwig shifted uncomfortably in his seat. _None of this is true for me. My case is different_ , he kept telling himself. _I can't confess—it's not an option. If I did… I would lose my brother. That would be the worst punishment._

As Ludwig left the building half an hour later his thoughts were still filled with musings on guilt and confession. _Tormented with guilt… a sort of madness… no, no I'm_ not _mad…_

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, gaze cast down on his feet, that he did not see the person walking towards him until he had bumped into his shoulder.

"Oh, sorry—" Ludwig stopped dead in his tracks.

Francis stood looking back at him, an eyebrow raised and a slight smirk on his face. "Oh, no need to apologize, you can bump into me any day."

Ludwig could feel a flush creeping down his neck.

"Actually," Francis continued, "I'm quite glad you did. I've been wanting to ask you about your brother."

Ludwig's blush deepened. "What about him?" he asked a bit too loudly.

Francis gave him confused look. "Well… he was in the hospital, right?"

Ludwig relaxed infinitesimally. Of course that's what Francis had meant, nothing else.

"So, is he alright?"

Ludwig remained guarded. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

Francis rolled his eyes. "In case you forgot, he's not exactly speaking to me at the moment."

"What makes you think I'm speaking to you?"

"What are you doing right now?" Francis smirked.

Ludwig opened his mouth, but couldn't think of a retort. Francis' smirk grew wider as he eyed the younger boy like his prey.

Ludwig hated that look. He wanted to get away, but Francis was a snake, transfixing him to the spot with his eyes.

Ludwig swallowed heavily, and finally managed, "Well what's it to you?"

The smirk faltered. The gaze turned hard. "He's still my friend, you know."

Ludwig paused. "He's fine," he finally said in hardly more than a whisper.

Francis nodded slowly. "Thank you." And then he turned to go.

It took Ludwig a second to realize he was free to go as well. Shakily, he turned in the other direction.

"Oh, and Ludwig?" The call made him stop in his tracks. He looked back to see Francis leering over his shoulder. "Why don't we get together some time? I do enjoy our little tête-à-têtes." And with that he stalked off.

Ludwig's lunch felt ready to evacuate his stomach.

…

"Have you been drinking enough fluids?"

"Yes."

"And getting plenty of rest? Not over-exerting yourself?"

"Yes, yes."

"And you haven't been smoking?"

"…"

Ludwig sighed. "Gilbert, come on. You heard what the doctor said."

"Yes I fucking heard what that fucktard said! I heard him say that I could contract a fatal disease any year now, and I heard him say I have to be careful of every tiny little scrape and bruise, and I heard him say I could get some bowel disease and all the different things that are wrong with me and all the things I can't do!"

Ludwig looked down at his hands, waiting for his brother to calm down. After a long pause, he started, "Gilbert, I'm sorry that—"

"And I don't want your fucking pity!" Gilbert turned to glare out of his window.

Ludwig didn't want to admit how much that stung. Stung his throat and eyes. But he would not cry, because he hated looking weak in front of his brother. But, he realized, so did Gilbert. That was why he was acting this way. Ludwig knew he shouldn't take it personally, but he couldn't help it.

"I… I'm just trying to help," he said, just loud enough to be heard, not trusting his voice.

Ludwig couldn't see Gilbert's face, but his brother's figure, noticeably thinner than before the accident, seemed to slouch in on itself just a little more.

A pause. "I know."

Ludwig regarded his brother mournfully. _I wish you'd let me help you. I could make you so happy, you know, I could make you feel so good… I'd do anything you wanted…_ An image of him, down on his knees in front of his brother as Gilbert fucked his throat raw flitted across his mind. Ludwig let out an involuntary huff of air and shifted in his seat, hauling himself back into reality.

Gilbert turned around to face his little brother. His look was too morose for his usually glowing features. "Sorry," he mumbled. "It's just… you know, Dad coming this weekend doesn't help exactly."

Ludwing knew there was more to it than that, but left it alone. "But he wants to see you, he really does. He's sorry he couldn't make it to the hospital or back home to see you before we came back to school. He's worried."

Gilbert sighed. "The last thing I need is people worrying about me."

Ludwig frowned. "But people worry about you because they care. Your friends care, Dad and I care."

Gilbert's eyes met Ludwig's. He attempted a small smile. "Yeah, I know you do." He sighed deeply, then walked over to where Ludwig was perched on Gilbert's bed and leaned against it. He didn't meet his brother's eyes. "I'm sorry. For being so bitchy. I… I'm really grateful, for, you know, what you did, and looking out for me and all." Finally he raised his eyes to look into Ludwig's face, and giving a crooked smile he threw an arm around his shoulders in a very brotherly gesture.

Too brotherly for Ludwig. He pulled Gilbert closer so he could wrap both arms around his waist and rest his head on his shoulder. But after just a moment Gilbert pulled away.

The older boy laughed slightly. "Luddy, I'm here, it's alright." He gave his little brother a jovial but annoyingly condescending smile.

Ludwig just looked away. He shrugged. "I know."

He could tell Gilbert was looking at him, and he wished he would say something. But he didn't, so Ludwig continued, "Just, no more smoking, okay?"

Gilbert sighed. "Okay."

"Promise?" Ludwig looked at his brother.

Gilbert paused, slightly disgruntled. "Promise."

Then Gilbert blinked. "Oh, shit," he said, suddenly remembering something. "Left my laundry in the washer again, Liz is gonna kill me! Brb!" And with that he bounded out of the room and down the stairs.

Ludwig flopped back on his brother's bed with a sigh. Ever since they had gotten back to school, things between them had been… odd. Ludwig couldn't place his finger on it. He wanted to say it was all just a natural reaction to learning about a life-altering disease, but could that really explain why Gilbert always wanted to hang out and was genuinely happy to see him, yet drew way every time they seemed to get close?

Of course, maybe Ludwig was reading too much into these things. After all, he had always been the one reticent about physical contact, so perhaps there was nothing strange about Gilbert's behavior. Maybe, like he said, he just didn't want to be pitied too much.

But it was difficult for Ludwig, too. He wanted to help Gilbert, and didn't know how. It pained him to see his brother putting on a cheerful face for all his friends who had no idea how lucky Gilbert was to even be there. And it pained him to see how much weight Gilbert had lost. He hadn't been eating well since the hospital, despite the doctor's specific instructions to keep up a nutritious diet.

Ludwig gazed at the ceiling and let his hand trail over the soft blankets. He wished he could be in this bed more often. He could be so good for his brother, he just knew it, he could be the best lover… but that would never happen.

Ludwig turned on his side and pressed his cheek against the sheets. They smelled like Gilbert, he realized. He breathed in deeply, involuntarily pushing his nose against the mattress. Oh God, it was _intoxicating…_

He slid his face up to bury it in the soft pillow. It smelled so strongly of his shampoo, of his _hair_ , and suddenly Ludwig was panting, heavy and open-mouthed against the cloth, just trying to breath in _more_ of that scent. Then down again, peeling back the blankets so he could press his face into the bed sheets, and here was a trace of cologne, and here was the unmistakable odor of sweat, maybe even of private body parts.

 _What the hell am I doing, this is wrong, this is wrong, I should stop right now…_ But Ludwig's nostril's were full of that smell that was so so Gilbert and so so delicious, and his mouth was pressed against the cloth and he let his tongue tentatively graze the fabric as he filled his lungs with that heady, pungent air because he had never been so incredibly turned on by a smell alone. His stomach fluttered and clenched with every breath he took.

He shifted slightly and his foot made contact with something soft that slid off the bed with a _thwump_. Ludwig sat up, startled, and realized he had kicked off part of the dirty laundry pile that had been sitting at the foot of his brother's bed.

Immediately, he sprang to his feet to clean up the mess before Gilbert returned. He grabbed items of clothing and flung them back onto the bed, but stopped as he picked up the last one.

It was a pair of red underwear.

Ludwig wondered for a moment. In stories, in movies, sometimes people smelled other people's clothing, especially their intimates. He supposed that meant people did it in real life too, and he had to wonder what there was to it…

He brought the red fabric up to his face and pressed his nose into it. And it did indeed smell. Very strongly. More strongly than the sheets.

Ludwig practically gasped in the smell that was so bodily and so, so his brother. He wondered if this was close to what it would smell like if they had sex.

Suddenly, a set of footsteps was at the top of the stairs. How had he not heard him coming up? It was Gilbert, he knew from the way his feet hit the floor. And he was steps away from the door.

In a panic, Ludwig's body acted on its own. He crouched down and stuffed the underwear into his open backpack. He was zipping it up as Gilbert opened the door.

Ludwig's face and muscles burned with adrenaline. He stood again slowly, hoping Gilbert wouldn't notice his face until it was slightly less red.

"Phew! She didn't notice this time!" Gilbert grinned. He stalked over to the laundry pile on his bed and swept it off into his hamper, and Ludwig suddenly wondered why he hadn't simply thrown the underwear back onto the pile. That would have been the easy thing to do. But now it was in his backpack and there was no inconspicuous way to get it back out and put it in the hamper where it belonged.

"You know, I should probably go, I have a lot of work to get done," he said tensely, still not looking at his brother.

Gilbert glanced at him. "Oh. Okay," he said a little too casually, and Ludwig felt like even more of a terrible person because he knew Gilbert would rather he stayed. But he couldn't, not when he had just been smelling his sheets and his underwear that was now inexplicably in his backpack.

He slung his bag over his shoulder as casually as possible before daring to look at his brother. "Um, see you soon?"

"You bet!" Gilbert said, a little too brightly.

After an awkward moment's hesitation, Ludwig tried to hug Gilbert once more, but his brother responded only half-heartedly. Drawing back before he embarrassed himself too much, he gave a casual "See ya" and strolled out the door.

…

"Hey! Hey Ludwig, have you seen the outfit I got over break?" Feliciano yelled from their doorway loud enough for the whole hall to hear, despite the fact that Ludwig was sitting right next door in the lounge.

He sighed. He was trying to study for his psychology midterm. There was no way he could do that in the room with Feliciano around, nor did he particularly feel like going to the library, and so he had decided to try the lounge. To no avail, it seemed.

Feliciano had already mentioned these clothes more than once, and Ludwig had already given the excuse that he was busy. But in reality, he wasn't exactly comfortable spending an extended period of time with his roommate at the moment, especially not with the express purpose of examining his looks. They had only very briefly discussed what had happened the night before break, which is to say they hadn't really discussed it at all; Feliciano had nervously asked Ludwig what happened, claiming he still couldn't remember, and Ludwig had told him everything except the most important part. He wasn't sure if Feliciano believed him, and he wasn't entirely positive he didn't remember more than he let on either. But Ludwig wished that he himself could forget.

"Uh, I'll, be right there…"

"No need! I'm wearing it!" And with that Feliciano stepped out from behind the door to expose the much-hyped outfit.

Ludwig gawked for a moment. Feliciano usually wore chic, neutral-colored clothes, a sort of business-turned-effortlessly-casual look, but this was completely different.

A light pink button down was only done halfway up, exposing a good deal of smooth, tan chest, and a pair of electric blue jeans seemed painted on to his skinny legs, tucking into a pair of what appeared to be black velvet ankle boots—with heels. 

"I decided to try something new! Well, what do you think?" Feliciano beamed, standing with one hip popped in an unconsciously provocative pose.

"Uh…" It took Ludwig a moment to find his voice. "Very… very striking," he said cautiously, hoping his face didn't betray his horror.

It wasn't that Feliciano looked ugly. That would be practically impossible. In fact, the tight clothes showed off his lithe frame quite well, and the added height from the boots suited him, oddly enough. But the colors, the chest, the heels—it was enough for Ludwig to feel mortified for his roommate.

Ludwig cursed himself for not being a better actor when Feliciano's face fell slightly. "You don't like it…"

"No! No, it's not that, it's just… just… so, different, from what you usually wear…" Ludwig swallowed. "I guess it'll just take some getting used to."

But Feliciano frowned with worry. "It's the heels, isn't it? Too much? I knew it was too much. I was shopping in Manhattan, and you know, guys wear anything there, I've seen guys in heels and all, and I mean, even straight guys, or, well, maybe they were straight, but anyway I thought I could pull them off, but I can't, it's not like we're in the city—I wonder if I can get a refund—"

"Feli! Wait a second! It's—look, it's not… it's not _that_ bad…" Ludwig cringed at his own words. "Uh, what I mean is, it's just… maybe just a special occasion sort of thing?" he tried to save.

Feliciano looked to be deep in thought for a moment. Then suddenly the beam was back on his face. "Hey, you're right! Of course, I don't want to wear something this fancy as an everyday shoe! I'll save them for special occasions! Oh, thanks Luddy, I knew you could help." He made to go back into the room, but then turned back. "Oh, and what about the buttons? Too low? One more?"

"Umm…"

Feliciano laughed nervously. "Heh, right, of course, I'll do one more up."

Ludwig would have said two more, but he decided to hold his tongue.

"Okay! Good luck studying!" Feliciano grinned widely before disappearing back into the room.

Ludwig stared at his textbook for a while, not absorbing any information. Why was Feliciano so insistent on getting his opinion? Was that just the way he was? And most of all… how much had he meant what he said, that night…

Ludwig sighed. Gilbert had called Feliciano eye-candy, so perhaps there was some attraction there. Feliciano had said he liked Ludwig… in more than a friendly way. And Ludwig couldn't get his mind off of Gilbert, his own brother. _One fucked-up love triangle…_

"Uh, hi, Ludwig," came a timid voice from behind where he sat.

Ludwig looked up to see the mild blue eyes and shy smile of his RA. _Shit. Make that a love square, rectangle, four-pointed whatever the fuck you want to call it…_

"Oh, uh, hello Matthew," he said, trying to sound friendly.

"Um, mind if I sit?"

"Uh, no, of course not."

Matthew took a seat in the chair next to Ludwig. "Oh, and you can call me Mattie, really."

"Um, okay."

There was an awkward pause. Ludwig cleared his throat. "Uh, am I, in trouble or—"

"Oh, no! Not at all! No, I just, thought I should get to know my residents better!" Matt laughed nervously.

"Oh."

"Ah, well, actually… I wanted to talk to you about Gil."

Ludwig's face flushed immediately. "What about him?" he said slowly, trying to keep control of his voice.

"Well, just…" Matthew sighed. "You know, after the accident and all… I've just been worried about him, and I thought, you being his brother and all, you might have a better idea of what's going on with him. I've tried talking to him, but…"

Ludwig looked at his downcast RA, gut wrenched with guilt. He was feeling pity for this boy—or no, perhaps it wasn't pity. Perhaps it was sympathy. Because after all, they were in a surprisingly similar situation, weren't they? Both in love with, and concerned for, the same person.

The one major difference, of course, was that Matthew was the one Gilbert was supposed to be with, not Ludwig.

Ludwig gulped. "I'm sorry, Matth—Mattie. I don't think I know a lot more than you do."

Matt looked at his hands. "I just… don't know what to do."

Ludwig's gut twisted just a little further. "Neither do I," he said truthfully.

They sat in silence for a few moments, and Ludwig was surprised by how not awkward it felt.

Then Matthew spoke up. "Does he… ever talk about me?"

Ludwig glanced at the other boy. "Well, yes."

Matthew looked at him with what was almost surprise. "And?"

"Uh… he, well, he—"

"Oh, um, I'm sorry, I mean, you don't have to tell me of course, he's your brother and all—"

"Oh, ah, no, it's okay, really."

They both looked at each other for a moment, blushing slightly.

"He likes you," Ludwig blurted out.

Matthew raised his eyebrows as if unimpressed.

"Uh, a lot. Really."

The RA looked down, then nodded thoughtfully. He smiled slightly. "Well, I like him too. A lot."

Ludwig had to look away. Another person who would be hurt if he actually got what he wanted so badly. And in truth, was there anyone who would benefit?

"Uh, well, heh, sorry to bother you Lud," Matthew said, standing.

"Oh, not at all."

Matt smiled a bit. "Well, we both love him, right? Just want what's best for him."

Ludwig could feel himself breaking out into a sweat. He hoped to God it didn't show. "Of course."

Matt paused before adding tentatively, "You know, we should hang out some more. Maybe do a brothers thing, all together, if I haul Al along. I really don't hang out with him enough. Heh, you and Gil are lucky you're so close."

"Yeah," Ludwig responded vaguely, earnestly hoping he could resist the urge to throw up.

"Well, see ya," Matt said with a slight wave before going back down the hall to his room.

Ludwig sat for a while, head in hand, staring miserably at the carpet.

There was no way he could study right now. Perhaps he could finish in the morning. And so he retired for an early night.

But Ludwig couldn't sleep.

Feliciano had gone to the library, and so he was alone in his room, staring at the ceiling. He tried rolling over and pulling his quilt around him tighter. He pretended that its warmth against his back was really coming from another body, from his brother.

He wrapped his arms around himself. They could be Gilbert's arms. He turned his face to his shoulder, pressing his nose and lips to his own warm skin. He did smell very much like his brother.

He kissed the bare inside of his arm, pretending it was a different arm. He trailed his tongue up a high as he could reach, and he was sucking on Gilbert's shoulder, and Gilbert was nipping at his. Ludwig was almost surprised at how nice that felt. The titillating sharpness of his own teeth against his skin, the velvety warmth of his own tongue.

"Gilbert…" he whispered into his arm, and now his hand trailed up to his neck where his mouth could not reach. He almost gasped at how sensitive he was there. All he had to do was graze the pads of his fingers (Gilbert's fingers, his long, white, skilled fingers) over his skin, or even just barely touch the fine hairs at his nape, to send convulsive shivers down his spine.

Ludwig buried his face in his pillow, pulling it against him, when suddenly his hand met an unexpected texture.

It was Gilbert's underwear, Ludwig remembered in an instant. To think he had almost forgotten how he had quickly stashed it under his pillow to keep it from Feliciano's view.

He drew it back out again and examined it in the darkness.

So it was real. He had taken it. Smelled it. Done all of those things. Here was the tangible proof.

Well, it was here now… and Ludwig was alone again.

He brought it to his face and breathed in deeply, so deeply that the fabric blocked the air flow to his nostrils for a moment.

 _Mm, Gilbert…_ This was what Gilbert's most private parts smelled like. Nothing special, really, except that it came from his brother. And it made him horny almost instantly.

Without hesitation this time, Ludwig stuck his hand into his boxers and began stroking himself. He just needed this _so badly_.

The whole time, it was Gilbert's warm hand enveloping his member. He even brought the underwear down and wrapped it around his cock to see what the soft cotton would feel like rubbing along his length. It was perfection.

He brought the underwear back to his face, and noticed a few wet spots from precum. He felt perversely pleased to have marked Gilbert's underwear somehow. He decided he'd use it to catch his ejaculate rather than a Kleenex. He already knew he'd need to wash it anyway.

 _Gilbert, Gilbert Gilbert I'm going to come_ — Ludwig pressed the soft fabric to the head of his cock as his other hand furiously worked the shaft. His stomach tightened, his back arched, and his essence spilled into the waiting cloth.

Ludwig lay panting for a while, not bothering to move the sticky garment from its position around his softening cock. He felt terrible, but it almost didn't matter. He knew he would from the moment he started touching himself.

Because this was how it always ended.

And this was how it always would end. This was how all of it would end. With Ludwig, alone and miserable.

And finally, with his face buried in the crook of his arm, he cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Gil and Mattie take an important step, but Gil has a hard time dealing with Dad's visit. Oh, and a little surprise (that does not involve near-fatal injuries).


	18. Chapter 13

"Do you think I look sexy?"

Matt blushed deeply as he looked at his boyfriend, reclining on his bed. "Wh-what?"

"You heard me," Gilbert sighed. "Do you think I look sexy?"

"Uh... in general you mean?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Sure."

"Well, yeah..." Matt's blush darkened. "Why are you asking?"

Gilbert smirked. "Just makin' sure. 'Cause, you know, I think that you're sexy."

If Matthew's face could have gotten any redder, it would have. "Th-thanks..."

Gilbert reached a hand up to flick at his boyfriend's wavy hair. "This cut really suits you, you know." He grasped a strand and ran it through his fingers. "Shows off your pretty hair," he said with a slight smirk.

The heat in Matt's face was spreading to his neck and down to his stomach. "Why... why are you being so nice to me?"

Gilbert grinned, sitting up so he could stroke the rest of Matt's hair. "What do you mean? I need an excuse to be nice to my boyfriend?" He snorted.

"N-no, just, you usually, tease, and stuff..."

Gilbert's face was getting closer to his own. "Mmm, you want me to tease you?" he purred, tilting his head so that his face hovered over the crook of Matthew's neck.

Matt just made a slight embarrassing sound in response. Gilbert chuckled before closing his mouth over his collarbone and sucking.

Matt sighed out a slight moan, bringing his hands up to thread his fingers through Gilbert's hair. Gilbert pulled him closer, until he was lying back down on the bed with his boyfriend on top of him.

Gilbert released the skin between his lips, satisfied at the angry red mark they left on Matthew's pale skin.

Matt gulped. "Well this is... new. What's the occasion?" he asked breathlessly.

Gilbert settled his arms around the slight man's hips. He feigned thoughtfulness for a moment. "Hmm, I guess there's just somethin' about dramatic close-encounters with the old Reaper that makes you reexamine your priorities." He chuckled a bit.

"Gil, don't joke about that."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Oh come on. What do you want me to do then, cry about it? How many times do I have to tell you, I'm fine!"

Matt frowned slightly, then said, hesitantly, "You _have_ lost a lot of weight..."

Gilbert rolled his eyes again, more angrily this time. "Believe me, you don't have to remind me; my little brother's been doing a fine job of that."

"But are you listening to him?" Matthew insisted.

"Look, it's not that big a deal!" Gilbert said, sitting up so Matt was forced off his lap. "I mean, c'mon," he tried laughing again, "who couldn't stand to lose a few extra pounds?"

"Gilbert. You don't have extra pounds to lose."

Gilbert sighed and flopped back on the pillow. "I don't wanna argue about this now, okay? Can we just..." His hand strayed to Matt's knee, where he began tracing a lazy pattern. "...relax a little? Feel like we haven't gotten to hang out that much, just the two of us..." he said significantly.

Matthew looked down at his boyfriend for a moment, biting his lip. He wished Gilbert would open up to him more, but... it was hard to resist that half-lidded gaze and that wandering finger on his leg. He leaned down, and Gilbert eagerly brought up his free hand to guide him into a kiss.

It started out slow and sensual. Gilbert lazily stroked his tongue against Matt's, coaxing him in deeper. Matthew gave something between a grunt and a sigh as Gilbert started sucking lightly.

Then suddenly Gilbert wrapped his arms tightly around the other and flipped their positions so he was pushing his boyfriend down into the mattress with his needy mouth.

Matt pushed back, struggling to dominate the kiss. He grabbed two tufts of Gilbert's silky white hair and tugged, just hard enough that Gilbert pulled out of the kiss with a gasp and a groan.

Gilbert lowered his head again so his lips were a hair's breadth away from Matthew's, red and swollen. He could feel the heat pouring off of his flushed skin.

"You turn me on so much..." he breathed, grazing his mouth against Matt's cheek, jaw, neck.

Matt squirmed a little beneath him, pushing his pelvis up against Gilbert's. "Gilbert..." he whispered.

Gilbert slipped his hands under Matt's shirt to rub his fingertips against his stomach and sides. He brought their lips together again, moving slowly against each other.

Matt had to pull away to gasp for air first. His hands had found their way to the small of Gilbert's back. Tentatively, he reached a little lower to grasp at his ass and pull their hips closer together.

Gilbert groaned softly and returned to sucking and biting Matt's neck. His hands worked their way higher, to his chest, and then hastily pulled the shirt off of him.

For several more minutes the room was silent save their small gasps and groans and the wet sounds of mouths at work. Gilbert's shirt found its way to the floor as well.

When Matthew gave an especially enthusiastic squeeze to Gilbert's asscheeks, Gilbert bucked back and automatically reached a hand down to grasp at Matt's jean-covered crotch.

Matt grunted and glanced into his boyfriend's face. "Gilbert..." he whispered again.

Gilbert looked back into Matthew's light blue irises. "Can I?" he breathed, not moving his hand from its place over Matt's stiffening member.

Matt gulped. "You... want to?"

Gilbert nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off his beautifully blushing boyfriend sprawled beneath him. "Do you?"

Matt glanced away. "I..." He hesitated. Gilbert felt his heart sink. Matt wasn't ready, he had acted too soon, pushed things too far--"I do."

Gilbert blinked. Had he heard wrong?

Matthew turned his head back to look at him. "I do," he repeated quietly, "but... I..."

Gilbert shifted his hand slightly so it was resting on the other man's hip. "What is it?" he asked quietly.

"I..." Matt's blush was deepening by the second. He licked his lips, and then said, in a very quiet voice, "I'm a virgin..."

Gilbert stared. He had not expected this.

Matt looked away again, face flushed beet red. He tried to sit up. "Uh, f-forget about it!" he said, panicky.

"No, wait, Mattie!" Gilbert placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. "It's ok! It's fine, really! Just hold on!"

Matt stopped trying to squirm away, but he wouldn't meet his boyfriend's eyes.

"Do you--" Gilbert faltered, then tried again. "Are you sure you want to do this though? I mean, I'll understand if you don't, but, you know, being a, a virgin, isn't a problem."

"But, I, I've never... done..." Matt made a few awkward gestures with his hands.

Gilbert snorted. "Yeah, Mattie, I know what a virgin is. I was one once, believe it or not."

"Not exactly helping..." Matt grumbled. "You're probably way more experienced."

"Well..." Gilbert couldn't deny that. "What do I keep saying though? That doesn't matter. I'm awesome enough for the both of us." Matt snorted this time, but Gilbert, undeterred, reached up to tuck a stray lock behind Matt's ear. Matt blushed a little. He liked it when he did that.

Gilbert leaned in closer. "I want you," he whispered.

Finally, Matthew looked at him once more. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Gilbert's face was so close...

Then he gasped a little. Gilbert's hand was working against the growing lump in his pants, making Matt groan softly as he was pushed back into the pillow.

Gilbert's lips found his once more, wet and warm and so wonderfully soft, moving in rhythm with his hand. Matt had to moan again when Gilbert's fingers slipped under his belt and grazed along his pubic hairs, nearly reaching his erection.

Gilbert pulled his head back for a moment to look at his boyfriend again. "You sure," he said softly.

Matthew pursed his lips, regarding Gilbert's face cautiously, before nodding his head, just barely.

Gilbert brought his mouth down next to Matt's ear. "I love you."

Matthew breathed in deeply, wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's thin torso. "Love you too."

Gilbert nuzzled his nose into Matt's jaw with a contented hum as his hand reached lower, until finally he could feel Matt's member, hot and pulsating in his hand.

"W-wait!"

Gilbert drew his hand back as if burned, eyes snapping wide to look into his boyfriend's face.

"Wh-what is it?" he asked in a near panic.

"I don't... I don't..." Matthew's face was flushed even darker than before. He finally managed in the most timid of voices, "I don't have any lube..."

Gilbert looked back at Matt's stricken face blankly. And then he burst out laughing. "Kesesesese, Mattie, that's all? Jesus Christ, I thought something was really wrong! Kesesese!"

"Don't laugh!" Matt whined. "I--this is something wrong! How are we going to do it if we don't have lube?"

Gilbert tried to blink the tears from his eyes and calm his mirth for his boyfriend's sake. "W-well, I just use spit sometimes..."

Matthew balked. "No way! I'm not losing my virginity without lube! That'll hurt like all hell!"

Gilbert's grin slipped from his face as he regarded the practically terrified face before him. Maybe this was somewhat serious. Gilbert didn't mind no lube so much, but then, he had been doing this for years. Matt was completely new at this, and Gilbert didn't want their first time to be painful for him, let alone scar him for life.

"Okay..." he said slowly, trying to think of a solution. He had lube, of course, but it was back in his room. Going to get it or to buy some at a store would take way too long--Matt would be soft long before he got back for sure, and that would just be a buzzkill.

There had to be somewhere closer... Gilbert's face lit up. "Got it!"

He beamed at the confused blond as he jumped from the bed and threw his shirt back on hastily. He didn't bother with shoes.

"Be right back, Mattie, I promise!"

"Wait, Gilbert, where--"

But Gilbert was already out the door and sprinting down the hall.

He stopped at the door right next to the lounge and knocked rapidly. He didn't cease knocking until a very annoyed looking Ludwig tugged the door open.

The younger boy blinked in surprise to see his brother there. "Gil, what--"

"Luddy! I need lube!"

"Wh-what--" Ludwig spluttered.

"Lube! Sexual lubricant! KY! Anything! Do you have any lube?" Gilbert was clutching his sleeve with the most desperate look on his face.

Ludwig stared at his older brother in shock. "...Wh--... Why-- What do you need that for...?" he asked weakly.

Gilbert merely rolled his eyes. "Wha'd'ya think, dummy? Please, please, Lud, I'll be forever indebted to you!"

Ludwig's brow furrowed as the gears in his mind clicked. He glanced down the hall towards his RA's door. "...Oh," he said quietly.

"Well?" Gilbert pleaded.

"Uh--" Ludwig looked at his feet, his blush rising by the second. "N-no, I'm sorry--"

"What about Feli then, huh? Pretty boy like him must get tons of ass, he's gotta have some!"

Ludwig flushed deeper. "Feli's out..."

"Oh, c'mon, Lud, please, please I'm _begging_ you, couldn't you find anything?"

Ludwig looked into his brother's beseeching face and fought down the butterflies and other nastier things in his stomach. "I... could ask Kiku and Herakles..."

"Oh God, thank you so much!" Gilbert flung his arms around his little brother, then released him quickly so Ludwig could step back to knock hesitantly on the door adjacent to his own.

Kiku answered. "Ah, hello, Ludwig."

"Uh, Kiku, hi, I was wondering... um, I, uh..." Ludwig glanced back at his brother's hopeful face. "Um, mind if I come in?"

"Of course not!" Kiku ushered him in and closed the door behind him. "Do you need something?"

Herakles looked up at him drowsily from where he was working at his desk.

"Uh, well, see..." Ludwig started, feeling the obvious blush in his face. "It's for my brother, not me, just, doing him a favor, you know," he explained hastily. "So sorry to bother you both, but um, I was wondering if you might happen to, um, have some... spare... lube, I could borrow?" Ludwig cringed as he glanced at his two friends.

Kiku blinked, an incredible blush blossoming in his cheeks. Herakles, however, merely leaned back in his chair. "Oh, sure, what kind do you want?" he asked lazily.

"Uh... kind?"

"Yeah, like... plain, strawberry, self-heating--or, wait, I think we finished that one up last--"

Kiku made an odd strangled sound that cut his boyfriend off. He shuffled quickly over to Herakles and murmured something in his ear, blushing furiously.

Herakles nodded slowly. "Oh, okay. Kiku says he wants to keep the strawberry, but you're welcome to the plain." He reached into his bedside drawer and rustled around, while his boyfriend looked ready to explode from sheer mortification.

Herakles located the tube and handed it over to Ludwig, who cleared his throat awkwardly. "Ah, thank you, I'm so sorry to have to ask you--you understand, just trying to help out my brother, it's not for me, but, uh, this is very generous of you--"

Herakles waved a nonchalant hand. "Don't mention it. Tell Gilbert to keep the tube, we need to go buy more soon anyway, the way we've been using it." He yawned and turned back to his laptop. Kiku hid his face in his hands.

"Uh, right, okay then, I'll just, um, go--yes. Thanks again." And with that he fumbled out of the room as quickly as possible.

"Did you get it?" Gilbert practically yelled as soon as Ludwig reappeared.

Ludwig didn't say anything, but merely held the tube out to his brother, still blushing deeply.

Gilbert snatched it up instantly, eyes wide and gleeful, as if it were a winning lottery ticket and not a regular, half-used tube of KY. He flung his arms around the younger boy once again, squeezing tight for a moment before releasing and stepping away. "Oh my God Lud, you have no idea how much of a miracle this is! Love ya bro, I owe you one!" he called, already rushing back off down the hall. Outside of Matt's room he paused briefly to do a victory dance that, to anyone over twenty feet away, would probably look like he was attempting to swat a bee away from his head, before knocking on the door and being swiftly readmitted.

Ludwig gazed after his brother for a long moment.

So. Gilbert and Matt were having sex. There was no doubt about it.

And... Gilbert was _happy_ about it. As he should be. They were boyfriends, after all.

Ludwig let his mind wander for a moment. He wondered just what they'd be doing right now, this instant. Maybe an impassioned kiss, or maybe Gilbert would jump right to it and start sucking Matt off as he lubed up his fingers to prepare him.

The thought made Ludwig's stomach literally clench. He turned away from the hallway and closed the door, feeling ill. He headed into the bathroom.

In a daze, he locked the door behind him, then made a tiny circle around the room--it only took two and a half steps--trying to figure out what to do with himself. Finally, he slumped back against a wall, and because he simply didn't feel like standing any longer, he let his legs fold as he slid down to sit on the cold tile floor.

He stared at the piping under the sink for a good minute or two, just examining the rust patterns and the chips in the tile wall behind it.

Gilbert was having sex.

His brother was having sex.

An image flashed across his mind of Gilbert, panting and sweating and lost in ecstasy as he thrust roughly forward, in, deeper, but Ludwig quickly pushed it from his mind.

Gilbert wasn't having sex with him, he was having sex with his boyfriend. And that was the way it should be. Because he loved Mattie, and Mattie loved him.

_But I love you too..._

Ludwig shut his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall. It didn't matter how much he loved Gilbert, or how much he wanted him, because Gilbert was his brother and they could simply never be together, because Gilbert would have boyfriends and maybe even get married and he would be happy and normal and Ludwig couldn't--wouldn't--fuck that up for him.

And yet there was a pain in his chest that was rock heavy and sharp and aching all at once, and no matter how hard Ludwig tried, he simply couldn't will it away. And how long would it be there? How long would he bear the pain of not having his brother? Ludwig couldn't imagine a time when he wouldn't feel this way, because--and the realization was a slap to the face--even though he had lived most of his life, nearly 19 years in fact, thinking of Gilbert in a properly brotherly fashion, he couldn't conceive of him in a non-erotic light any more. How could he ever go back to viewing him as just a brother again?

No, for all Ludwig could tell, he would always want Gilbert. And so it would always hurt.

And it had all happened so quickly. Just a few short months ago everything had been so simple--how had he ever taken it for granted? Simple, uncomplicated, and so pure. Was it really possible for such irreversible change to happen in so short a time? Where had he gone wrong? Which moment, exactly, had been the point of no return? When he first sullied his brother's name on his sinfully lustful tongue? When he first imagined a forbidden union between them? When he first dared to explore the idea of brothers who liked to fuck in a doujin? Or maybe it was the first fanfiction he read, or the third or the tenth or fiftieth, or one of the articles he had studied or real life accounts he had heard. Or maybe it was when they were boys, growing up under the same roof, and Gilbert had always been so loving to Ludwig, playing with him, showing off to him, teaching him how to be "awesome," and Ludwig had always wanted to make his brother proud, to have his praise, and his affection.

Maybe he was doomed from the start.

...

"Gilbert."

"Hey, Dad."

"It's good to see you."

His father stepped forward to embrace him awkwardly. He stepped back and cleared his throat. "You look thinner."

Gilbert shrugged. His father's eyes lingered on him for a moment, concerned. Then he turned to his other son, who stood a few feet back.

"Ludwig," he offered as way of greeting with another stiff hug. "I trust you're making sure your brother follows the doctor's orders?"

Ludwig could see Gilbert let out a slight huff in the corner of his eye. "I don't need to, he's been doing fine," he lied.

"Hm, well." He turned to Gilbert. "You should get some meat on your bones. And exercise, too. Strengthen your lungs. Have you read about this condition?"

"The doctor told me everything I need to know, and I got enough of a reminder right here," Gilbert said tersely, tapping the shiny medical alert bracelet that now donned his left wrist.

"A little extra research doesn't hurt. You ought to know that taking care of yourself can help with the more serious aspects--"

"I KNOW, okay? I don't need a lecture about it!"

His father frowned, but Ludwig thought he could see worry as well as anger in the wrinkles of his forehead and the lines around his eyes.

"I only want what's best for you, Gilbert."

Gilbert crossed his arms tightly over his chest, not meeting his father's eyes. "Yeah. Whatever," he mumbled.

"Uh--" Ludwig broke into the tense moment. "Shouldn't we go for lunch?"

His father cleared his throat. "Yes. That sounds like a good idea."

The family of three walked in silence from the student center where they had met up and piled into their car. After a certain amount of grumpy indecision over where to eat, they settled on the place the father was most familiar with, a sandwich shop just down the road.

Seated around a small table, Gilbert picked at his sandwich as his father tried to make polite conversation with Ludwig.

"And your suitemates? You get along?"

"Yes, we get along. They... are somewhat peculiar, but nice."

"Hm. I hope they don't distract you from your work."

"Well... I can always go to the library."

"Hm. ...Gilbert, this is what I'm talking about. Eat your sandwich."

Ludwig thought he saw Gilbert's face twitch, though he kept his eyes down at his practically untouched food. Very slowly, he took a few deliberate mouthfuls of ham sandwich and chewed it noisily.

His father waited for him to swallow. "And your housemates, Gilbert? How are they?"

"Just dandy." He took a noisy slurp of soda.

Ludwig noticed the line of his father's mouth tighten the tiniest bit.

"And Elizaveta?"

"She's one of my housemates, ain't she? So she's dandy too."

"Don't use that word."

"What, you don't like the word 'dandy'?"

"I don't like the word 'ain't.' I was not raised speaking this language and yet I speak it correctly. So can you. And you need to eat more of your sandwich."

"Oh, very well, I shall indeed take another morsel." Gilbert bit into his sandwich daintily, with pinkies out.

Ludwig felt the strong urge to sink into his chair and disappear.

His father's frown deepened perceptibly. "I asked about Elizaveta because I think a girlfriend could do you some good. Not to mention knock some manners into you."

Gilbert snorted, almost spilling his soda. "Have you seen Liz's table manners? The only way she's knocking manners into anyone is with a frying pan." Gilbert paused, rolling a few bread crumbs between his fingers. "And anyway, I'm dating someone else now."

Ludwig's heart skipped a beat. No, surely he wouldn't...

Their father blinked in genuine surprise. "Oh? Who?"

Gilbert continued rolling the crumbs around, drawing out the moment.

_Gilbert, don't do this, no no no--_

"His name is Matthew."

Ludwig felt as though someone had poured an ice cube tray into his stomach.

_Shit._

Their father blinked again. Then again. "I'm sorry?" he said, and his voice sounded off.

"I said," and Gilbert finally raised his eyes to meet his father's, "that my _boyfriend's_ name is Matthew." He looked levelly at his father's frozen expression for a few moments. "Oh, I'm sorry, you didn't know that your son likes to fuck guys?"

Ludwig stared fixedly at the wood grain of the table.

His father kept a composed face, though the muscles of his jaw pulsated several times. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak.

"Excuse me," was all he said, very formally, before standing and walking out the door.

Gilbert watched him go, fists clenched like vices around the edge of the table. As soon as the door closed behind him he pushed himself away from the table and stormed off to the bathroom, nearly knocking over his chair in the process.

"Gilbert, wait!" called Ludwig, getting up swiftly to follow him and ignoring the strange looks the other customers were giving them.

The bathroom consisted of a small room with a sink and two stalls on either side, one for men, one for women. Gilbert had shut himself in the men's stall, so Ludwig waited in the sink room and closed the outer door behind him. Then he heard a retching noise in the stall.

"...Gil? Gil, are you okay?"

Another heave, followed by a distinctive splattering.

"Gilbert, let me in!" Ludwig pounded on the stall door, alarmed.

The toilet flushed. The door opened. Gilbert stood, looking haggard and not meeting his little brother's eyes.

"That man..." he began, pushing past Ludwig to the sink, "makes me sick."

"Gilbert, don't talk about him that way."

"Oh?" He started scrubbing his hands furiously. "Did you hear the way he was talking to me? Like some fucking child? Or his _face?_ Did you see his face when I told him?!"

"Well, I have to say you could have broken the news to him a little easier--"

"Why? Why should I? Why'd he have leave the table like that? Why?"

"He's just a little shocked, Gilbert, he needs time to--"

"Oh great. Typical. Take Dad's side, why don't you? Always defending him!" Gilbert was sneering at him in the mirror.

Ludwig could feel the anger bubbling up in his chest. "I do not! That's not true! You know that's not true! I don't like the way he treats you any more than you do--"

Gilbert spun around. "Ha! Oh, that's easy for you to say. Perfect little Luddy who can do no wrong in Daddy's eyes--"

Ludwig's arms had shot out and shoved his brother against the wall before he knew what he was doing. "SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!"

"OW! Jesus Christ, Lud!"

It took Ludwig a second to register the grimace of pain on his brother's face. Immediately, hot guilt whooshed through his body and he dropped his hands from Gilbert's shoulders.

Gilbert detached himself from the wall and rubbed his shoulder, trying to examine it. "Motherfucker..." he muttered, wincing.

Ludwig saw the air freshener plugged into the wall that Gilbert's shoulder had hit. No, that he had slammed Gilbert into.

Ludwig wanted to cry.

"I-I'm sorry, Gil--" he said, trying to reach out, but Gilbert jerked away.

"Whatever. Not bleeding. Sorry you don't get to play the hero this time," he practically spat before turning and shoving through the door.

Gilbert's peripheral vision, however, was not very good, and he missed the step down from the bathroom door and nearly fell flat on his face. "Fuck!" he swore loudly as he caught himself. He glowered balefully at the offending step before stomping off, letting the bathroom door swing shut behind him.

Ludwig stared at the peeling paint of the door. His chest hurt. His body seemed to move of its own accord as he let himself into the men's stall. He stood in the four square feet of space, shaking slightly. His lungs didn't seem to be working right, but only in starts and stops. Slowly, he curled in on that point of pain in his chest, folding his arms over his stomach and clutching his sides as he bent double, the uncontrollable sobs bubbling up his throat.

He was a terrible person. He was a terrible brother. He had angered Gilbert, and hadn't stood up for him, had never stood up for him as much as he deserved. He was a coward. And on top of it all, he had lost his temper--his stupid, goddamned _temper_ \--and had physically _hurt_ Gilbert. Ludwig wasn't a child any more. That was just... inexcusable. Unforgivable.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed in that stall, hoping and dreading that his father or Gilbert would come back to get him and crying until there were simply no more tears. Until he felt dried up, wrung out like a flimsy rag. Ludwig was sick of crying, of how pathetic it made him feel, how drained.

Shakily, he unlatched the door and stumbled to the sink. He dared a glance in the mirror. He looked god-awful. Pale face, tear streaks, bloodshot eyes, runny nose. He splashed cold water on his face, trying to reduce the signs of his weakness without much success. He blew his nose. He wiped his eyes.

When he went back into the restaurant he saw his father waiting by the door with his coat. Gilbert was nowhere in sight. Ludwig approached his father, head down to hide his red eyes, and silently accepted his coat and followed him out to the car.

Gilbert was already seated in the back, hunched over so Ludwig couldn't see his face. Ludwig sat in the passenger's seat. He didn't want to look at his brother.

He supposed Gilbert and his father must have had some brief exchange, because neither said a word as they drove to Gilbert's house. When they pulled into the driveway, Gilbert jumped out immediately and went into the house. His father made to follow, but Ludwig hesitated.

His father glanced at him. "You can stay in the car if you want," was all he said before shutting the driver's door and walking up the porch steps and inside.

Ludwig stared morosely at the silent house, not thinking about anything in particular, for what must have been at least half an hour. Finally, the front door opened again and his father emerged. His face betrayed nothing.

He opened the passenger door and looked solemnly at his son. "Your brother wants to see you."

Ludwig stared at the dashboard for a second, then slowly unclipped his seatbelt, unfolded himself from the seat, and walked past his father.

His pace was slow but steady as he entered the house, went down the hallway and up the stairs. He only hesitated once he reached Gilbert's door, and then only for a moment before he turned the doorknob and went in.

Gilbert was seated in his desk chair, facing away from him. He didn't turn around

Ludwig closed the door behind him and stood, unsure. He wondered if Gilbert even realized he was there. "...Gilbert?"

Slowly, Gilbert turned in his seat, head hung. Ludwig could tell immediately that he'd been crying.

_Well, at least I'm not the only one._

"I didn't mean it," Gilbert said in a voice barely more than a whisper. He was staring at the floor.

Ludwig blinked. "...Didn't mean what?"

"That stuff I said." Suddenly, his lip was trembling. "I-I'm a terrible b-brother--"

"Gilbert, don't say that--"

"No, it's true! I'm a terrible brother, and I'm a terrible son!" He buried his face in his hands as his shoulders shook.

Slowly, Ludwig walked over to his brother and placed a hand on his back. Gilbert didn't look up. Ludwig knelt down so he could wrap his arms around his middle in a hug. He could feel Gilbert's ribs quaking with every tiny sob.

"Gilbert... that's not true. I-- I'm the one who-- You were right. I should have stood up for you more--and, and I'm _so sorry_ I hurt you--" And shit, now he was crying again too.

Gilbert pulled back and took Ludwig squarely by the shoulders. "No. Don't let me make you think that," he said almost angrily. "I don't care about my fucking shoulder. It didn't even hurt that much. But what I said wasn't true. You--you're the best little brother anyone could ask for." He pulled Ludwig into a tight embrace.

Ludwig had to use all his willpower not to sob as silent, hot tears flowed down his face. _Don't say that, please don't say that, you have no idea..._

But Gilbert simply kept holding his head against his chest. "I... I was just so angry at Dad, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry," he whispered. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Ludwig squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his arms around his brother in return.

"...I'm still sorry about your shoulder," he mumbled into Gilbert's shirt after a while.

Gilbert laughed wetly. He pulled back to look down at his little brother. "Don't worry about it. And stop crying like a little girl," he teased, tears glistening conspicuously on his own cheeks.

Ludwig smiled lopsidedly and wiped his face on his sleeve.

Gilbert examined his own shirt. "Kesese, nice self-portrait there." He pointed down to the damp spots on his front that roughly corresponded to Ludwig's face.

"Oh, sorry." They laughed a little.

They looked at each other for a moment.

"So..." Ludwig began hesitantly, immensely relieved everything was alright between them, but still not sure exactly where things stood. "How was your talk with Dad?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Good as I could expect, I guess. Said he still loves me, and I'll always be his son, yada yada... don't think he's exactly happy about it, though. Didn't seem to understand why I need a boyfriend if I'm still attracted to girls too. But. Told me he was real happy I'm alive. That the, y'know... I, don't need to worry about the disease and all that..." he trailed off, gazing into space.

"I'm sure he'll come round about the whole boyfriend thing," Ludwig said quietly, stomach twisting guiltily. If Ludwig had his way, Gilbert would be doing things their father could never forgive. "He just... needs time to adjust."

"Yeah. I guess." Gilbert sighed. "Well, little bro, you probably shouldn't keep Dad waiting. I think he wants to say bye."

"Bye? He's going already?"

Gilbert raised his eyebrows. "Well, what would he do if he stuck around? After that little spat, I mean... y'know, at least we got it cleared up but personally I can't see a big happy family dinner happening tonight, can you?"

"...Oh. I guess." Ludwig felt bad. Their father had driven all this way for a singularly unpleasant lunch rendezvous. _At least Gilbert came out to him though, right? ...I'm such a fucking hypocrite._ "Okay. Um, see you later?"

"'Course." Gilbert smiled a bit as Ludwig got up.

Ludwig sighed. "Okay then. Bye." He gave a slight wave and turned for the door.

"Bye-bye, bro."

...

The drive to Ludwig's dorm was silent. It was only once they came to a stop in the parking lot in back that Ludwig's father turned to him.

"I'm glad you're not like your brother." His voice was soft, but serious.

Ludwig's stomach clenched in anger, and guilt. "Why?" he challenged. "Because he's bi?"

His father blinked. "No, of course not!" he said quickly. "That's--that's a different matter. It's because you're responsible. I know I can count on you. And I'm proud of you," he added with sobriety, laying a hand on his son's shoulder.

Ludwig felt burned by the touch. _You wouldn't be, if you knew..._ He wished he could leave. He felt slightly ill. "You should give Gilbert a chance, Dad," he said quietly. "He's not so bad, you know."

His father took back his hand, looking away with a furrowed brow. "No, I... I'm not saying he is."

There was silence for a moment. "I should, get back to work, Dad."

The man cleared his throat. "Of course. I should, as well. It was good to see you, Ludwig."

"...You too. Thanks for coming out."

He nodded. "Of course." Ludwig opened the door. "And Ludwig," his father added, "don't forget to call."

"Right." He scooted out and leaned down to look at his father. "I'll see you at Thanksgiving."

The man nodded. "I look forward to it. Study hard, do well. I know you will."

Ludwig forced a smile and backed up, raising his hand in parting as his father pulled out of the parking lot and drove away.

...

Ludwig was surprised when his phone rang, both because of the hour and the caller.

"Hello?"

"Ah, yes, hello Ludwig. I'm terribly sorry for disturbing you this late."

"It's alright, I'm up studying. What is it, Roderich?"

"Well, it's... your brother."

"...Oh?"

"It's just, we're at a party and, ah, Liz and I have made some plans and weren't planning on going back home tonight, but Gilbert is, uh, rather inebriated..."

Ludwig sighed. "Should I come get him?" He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Ah, if you don't mind, yes, that would probably be best. Thank you so much."

"Where are you?"

"Berwald and Tino's suite." Roderich gave him the directions.

"Alright, I'll come now."

"So sorry, again. Thank you, Ludwig."

"Okay. I'll see you soon."

...

Tino greeted him with a large smile when he arrived. "Ludwig! Great to see you, come in!" He put his arm around his shoulders drunkenly, ushering him into the spacious studio double. "You know, we don't hang out enough! I hardly ever see you except book club! Oh, oopsies, I mean, literature group, or whatever Mathias wants us to call it." He grinned.

"Hi, Tino." Ludwig extricated himself from Tino's hold. "I would love to hang out, but, I'm here for my brother, actually."

The grin widened. "Oh, Gilbo! Haha, wait till you see him!"

Oh, no. That didn't sound good. "Uh, where is he?"

But his question was answered by a commotion coming from the crowd in the living area to the right. People were whooping and hollering and crowding around the table, on which Gilbert was now standing and swaying dangerously. But worst of all was what he was wearing: a pair of black tights and high heels, and nothing else. Absolutely nothing else. Not even underwear beneath, as was all too apparent.

Ludwig gaped as Gilbert pulled a very flushed and intoxicated-looking Matthew up next to him on the table.

"Make out!" yelled someone in the crowd, and Ludwig identified Elizaveta standing immediately beneath the two boys. A few others echoed the call.

Gilbert grinned and pulled his boyfriend flush against him and appeared to start eating Matt's face. Matt was limp for a few moments, but then his hands moved to grip Gilbert's back, dipping lower until he had a handful of his ass and was practically massaging it through the sheer tights. The woots and whistles of encouragement grew louder as Gilbert reached down to grope Matt's crotch.

"C'mon, blow him!" called a very drunk Elizaveta. Roderich was blushing beside her.

Tino giggled. Ludwig tore his feet from the spot where they'd been glued. By the time he pushed his way past all the people to the table, Gilbert was down on his knees with his hand inside Matt's pants. Matt, hazy-eyed, had to lean forward and grip his shoulder for support.

Ludwig's hand shot out to grab his brother's arm and pull him away. Matthew nearly stumbled, but caught himself on all fours.

"Hey!" complained Elizaveta. "Don't stop them!"

Ludwig spun on her, grip still tight on Gilbert's arm. "I am _not_ going to let my brother humiliate himself in front of you all for your _entertainment!_ " he yelled, blood boiling.

Elizaveta looked taken aback.

"Where are his clothes?" he demanded.

"Ov'r there." Ludwig looked up and saw Berwald pointing to the corner couch.

"And whose tights and shoes are these?"

"Mine..." Elizaveta admitted sheepishly.

Ludwig glared. He turned to Gilbert and made him sit on the table so he could un-strap the shoes and toss them none-too-gently to their owner. "You'll get the tights back later," he grumbled, and went to collect Gilbert's clothes.

Gilbert seemed too drunk to get dressed properly, so Ludwig simply forced his shoes on his feet and pulled him from the table to wrap his coat around him. At least it was long enough to hide his perfectly visible penis folded up under the tights. All the while the people around him were murmuring at the scene, but Ludwig didn't care.

He guided his brother to the door. He doubted Gilbert could have walked even that far on his own. His head was lolling to the side and his eyes were half-closed.

Somehow, Ludwig managed to half-drag, half-carry him down the stairs, as Gilbert made mostly incoherent complaints.

Once they got outside Gilbert managed to stagger with an arm slung over Ludwig's shoulders. After a few steps, however, Gilbert pushed his brother away.

"I kin WALK, y'know," he slurred, standing with his feet wide apart for balance.

Ludwig looked at him dubiously. "Of course you can," he said, keeping one hand on Gilbert's back.

Gilbert took a few clumsy steps forward, but then veered off towards a lamppost on the side of the walkway and promptly swung his arms around it.

"Hi! Welcome tuh my party!"

Ludwig stared. He'd never known of anyone getting drunk enough to talk to a lamppost. He pulled his brother away from his newfound friend.

"Hey! I'm talkin' here!" Gilbert yelled in Ludwig's ear.

Ludwig cringed. "Gilbert, be quiet. I'm taking you home."

Gilbert squinted. "Ludwig? When'd you get 'ere?" he asked suspiciously. "Hey, how'd we git outside?"

Ludwig sighed. "I came to the party and we left together. We're going home, because you're very drunk."

"Naw I'm not! I'm fine!" he insisted, pulling away. He stumbled off the walkway and flopped down in the grass. "Gud night!"

Ludwig trudged over to haul Gilbert back up, but Gilbert didn't seem to want or know how to use his legs, so Ludwig settled for dragging him to a nearby bench. He sat down and pulled his brother onto the bench beside him, but the drunken man couldn't stay in a seated position. He lay down with his head in Ludwig's lap.

Ludwig ran a hand over his face. "Gilbert, I need you to pull yourself together. Can you do that? Can you just, walk?"

"Dun wanna."

Ludwig sighed and sat back. This was going to take a while.

"Why'd we leave party?"

"Because you were about to do something stupid."

Gilbert squinted again. "Are you angry a' me?"

"No, Gilbert, I'm not angry at you. Perhaps a little frustrated, though."

"Why're ya frustred?"

"Because--never mind."

"Dun see why yer fistratred--"

"I said never mind."

There was a long silence. Ludwig had a suspicion, and he knew it was pointless to bring it up with Gilbert so drunk, but he couldn't help himself.

"Gil... did you get this drunk because of Dad?"

"Whuh?"

"Dad--did you get drunk because of Dad's visit?"

"I'n tellin' you, I'not that drunk!"

"Just--never mind."

"No, now yer angry a' me."

"No I'm not."

"Yiss y'are!"

"No, I'm not."

"Yiss you are! Jus' like earlier. You were real angry. Why were ya angry? I'm sorry, Lud, I'm sorry I made you angry."

"I wasn't angry earlier, either."

"Yeah, when you pushed me inna bafroom!"

 _...Oh._ That _earlier._

"I... I'm not angry at you now," he said quietly.

"Dun like it when yer angry..." Gilbert muttered.

Ludwig blinked. He didn't know why he said what he said next. "Do you like me?" he blurted out.

"Huh?"

"Do you... like me?" he repeated, hearing how stupid the question sounded in his own head.

"Wha'ya mean?"

"Sometimes I... sometimes I think you don't like me."

Gilbert squinted. "Whuh? I like you! Ya mean ya think I dun like you? Why--why d'ya think I dun like you? I like y'a lot! I love you, dun think I dun like you, I luvya lot, bruderlein," Gilbert said, attempting to sound very serious.

"But... why?" He knew this conversation would get him nowhere, but he had to ask.

"Bicause I livya--I luvya! Yer my bruderlein."

Ludwig sighed. Pointless.

But then Gilbert spoke again. "Why ya actin' so weird?"

Ludwig looked at him in surprise. "I'm not acting weird." But he knew it was a lie.

"Yeah y'are. You bin actin' weird a lot." He raised a hand and reached up to poke Ludwig's face. "Wha's in tha' li'l head o' yers. Wha's goin' on there?"

Ludwig frowned. His brother thought he had been acting weird? What kinds of actions was he referring to, exactly? What had he sensed?

"I'm fine."

"Naw, yer not fine. I wish ya'd tell me. 'Cause I, will listen tuh ANYTHING. THA'S my job. And I LOVE ya. I dun tell ya tha' enough. I looooove you, bruderlein."

Ludwig paused. "I love you too, Gilbert."

"Kesesese, ya better!"

Suddenly Gilbert got up from the bench and walked in a practically straight line to the nearest tree.

"Uh, Gil?"

Ludwig's eyes widened in horror as Gilbert hitched up his coat and tugged down the tights to take a piss. Gilbert let out a satisfied sigh.

Ludwig hurried over to where his brother stood, trying to shield him from view should anyone walk by. Not that that was very likely at this time of night.

"Gilbert..." he groaned, but he figured there was no helping it. At least Gilbert hadn't peed in the tights.

It took a surprisingly long time for Gilbert to finish, and when he did he simply stumbled back, not bothering to pull the tights back up.

"Gilbert! Pull up your tights!"

"Huh?"

Ludwig facepalmed. "Gilbert, your dick is hanging out."

Gilbert scrabbled clumsily at the tights and managed to raise them another inch or so, but not high enough. "I's fine!"

"No, it's not fine!" Ludwig went over to his brother and tried to pull the tights up for him, but Gilbert stumbled backwards again and fell to the ground, completely uncovered.

Ludwig sighed and knelt down to struggle with the tights. It provided a good view of Gilbert's large cock, but he could hardly enjoy it now, with the danger of a passerby spotting them. Best to get it covered up as soon as possible. _Shame, really... Ugh, don't think that you perv!_ Ludwig admonished himself.

He found it impossible, however, with the way Gilbert's penis was lying against his stomach, to get the tights up over it without moving the penis, too. Ludwig grit his teeth. _God, if you're up there, please forgive me._

Very gingerly, he reached out two fingers and pushed Gilbert's penis down, barely touching it, and, holding it in place with one hand, eventually managed to pull the tights up high enough with the other. There was a moment though, in which he had pulled the tights up but hadn't yet removed his hand, so that he was essentially reaching inside the tights and touching his brother's cock. For that one blissful, torturous second he savored the feel of smooth, hot flesh against his fingertips, until suddenly Gilbert lifted his head. Ludwig retracted his hand immediately.

"Whad'ya doin'? You touchin' my cock?"

"No! I just--I had to get your dick inside your tights, Gilbert," he huffed, angry at Gilbert for putting him in such a situation, but angrier at himself for getting so flustered over it.

Gilbert's head flopped back down.

"Come on, get up. I have to get you home." Ludwig pulled Gilbert to his feet.

"Di' they kick us out?"

"Who?" he asked impatiently as he dragged his brother along beside him.

"The people! A' thuh party!"

"No, they didn't kick us out."

"They din wan' me there."

"What are you talking about?"

"They kicked me out bicause they dun like me."

"I said they didn't kick you out."

"They dun wan' me aroun'. Nobody likes me."

"Gilbert, what are you talking about?"

"But I don' care! I LOVE bein' alone! It's thuh BES'!"

"Gilbert..." Ludwig stopped walking to look at his brother.

"I fuckin' LOVE it. Fuck 'em. I'm too AWESOME fer 'em."

"Gilbert... you're not, alone, you know..."

"No, it's true, Lud," he insisted, leaning very close to his little brother and snatching at the front of his coat. "They dun really like me. They all think Ima freak."

"Gilbert, nobody thinks you're a fr--"

"A FREAK. They think I'm a, a demon, or a ghost--"

"Gilbert," Ludwig said firmly, now truly concerned. "No one's called you that for years. Not since middle school, remember?"

"No no no, it doesn' matter if they dun say it, they're _thinkin'_ it--"

"Gilbert, that's ridiculous. It's not true. Nobody thinks that."

"Well, they, they think I'm ugly!" Gilbert pushed away from him. "I'm fucking UGLY. Nobody thinks I'm pretty."

Ludwig swallowed. "...Matt thinks you're pretty--"

"Matt--Matt--does he? I dun know if he does!" Gilbert flailed his arms and staggered some more.

"...I think you're pretty," Ludwig said quietly.

Gilbert squinted at him. "Yer my brother. You have tuh say that."

"No, I don't. Actually, brothers don't usually tell each other they're pretty, Gilbert." Ludwig could feel his face growing hotter as he spoke. He was also thanking God Gilbert was drunk and probably wouldn't remember a thing come morning.

"Heh, well, it doesn' matter." Gilbert walked towards him, swaying dangerously. "YOU don' count. Yer not my boyfriend, er other people." He was standing right in front of him now, practically nose to nose and nearly cross-eyed. "You don' have tuh think I'm pretty, 'cause you dun kiss me an' stuff."

Gilbert lost his balance standing upright and stumbled to the side, but Ludwig caught him. Gilbert leaned into his arm. "Kesese, you don' kiss me, do you?"

Ludwig was starting to sweat, despite the chilly night. "What do you... what do you mean?" he asked, looking down into his brother's face in trepidation.

Gilbert smiled just a bit. "You think I'm pretty..." He nuzzled his head closer to Ludwig's. "Do ya really?"

Gilbert's cheek was resting against his, and Ludwig was finding it very difficult to breathe. He was both terrified and intoxicated by the thought that this might be like the Halloween party, when he had tasted his brother's lips on his for such a brief, blissful moment...

Ludwig knew he should move, in case this was like that night. But that possibility was also what kept him rooted to the spot. It was what kept him frozen as he felt Gilbert's cheek slide against his, until there were soft lips just at the corner of his mouth.

And then they were, implausibly, impossibly, against his. In a moment of ecstasy, Ludwig realized it was a second chance. A chance to savor this, without interruption. And surely, he wasn't doing anything wrong in simply letting his brother kiss him...

His eyes fell closed and his stomach did somersaults at the sensation of Gilbert's warm, smooth lips moving against his mouth. He opened it further, hoping beyond hope that Gilbert would take advantage, go deeper.

He wasn't disappointed. He felt the slick, wriggling muscle probe into his mouth, shooting electric sparks straight to his groin. Ludwig groaned involuntarily. All of his actions felt involuntary, as he wrapped his arms around his brother, burying a hand in his hair to push his face closer, their locked mouths tighter, as he sucked on the invading tongue, wanting to pull it further into his mouth.

There was hotness and wetness, slickness and softness, and they were Ludwig's entire universe. He couldn't string together a single thought other than _Gilbert, Gilbert, Gilbert oh oh Gil_ as their mouths moved in humid tandem.

And then, there was only cold air cushioning his swollen lips and hitting the glistening moisture that was left on and all around them. Ludwig opened his eyes in surprise at the change in sensation, gasping heavily to catch his breath. His brother's head came to rest heavily on his shoulder.

Ludwig simply stared ahead, trying to register what exactly had just happened. His arms were rigid, no longer clasped passionately around Gilbert's body but simply there to keep him standing. His whole body felt stiff, achy, like somebody who had tried to run a marathon without stretching.

Was that... Had that been real?

"C-cold..." came a weak voice from his shoulder.

 _Cold?_ It took Ludwig a moment to process what that word meant. His body was still hot, far too hot.

"O--oh! I've got to... get you home."

Ludwig looked around apprehensively as he wound his arm around his brother in a way that would enable him to walk. They were in the middle of the campus walk, for chrissakes--had anyone seen? But Ludwig didn't spot anyone about. He made for Gilbert's house quickly, tugging Gilbert along, head lolling side to side, when he couldn't stumble fast enough.

Finally, they made it back to the house, and by some miracle Ludwig managed to get his brother up the stairs amidst his loud complaints. Vash stuck his head out of the downstairs bedroom to complain that some people were trying to study. But at long last they made it back to the safety of Gilbert's room.

Gilbert tried to lie down on the floor, but Ludwig forced him upright and pushed him towards the bed. Gilbert simply leaned over to rest his head and his head only on the mattress, and seemed ready to fall asleep in that ridiculous position.

"Gilbert, you need to get into PJs..."

An incoherent muttered answer.

Ludwig sighed and starting pulling his brother's coat off of him. Next came the tights, and Ludwig did his level best to look away from the nakedness that left. Although, anyone would have trouble taking their eyes off that smooth white ass, Ludwig reasoned.

He rummaged around in drawers for a pair of boxers but was dismayed to find underwear of only the whitey tighty variety. With a sigh, he grabbed a pair and hauled Gilbert onto the bed so he could pull them up.

It struck him, as he was forcing a foot through a hole, that now they were completely alone. He could look as long as he wanted at his brother.

Slowly, he pulled the briefs up Gilbert's thighs. He knew he should simply dress him as quickly as possible, and yet... His eyes lingered on Gilbert's cock. His long, pale and pink cock lying flaccidly and obliviously on its side. Ludwig bet he could actually get away with quite a lot without Gilbert noticing, he was so far gone. A touch, a stroke, even... a lick?

Oh, God, he wanted to taste that velvety skin, feel it filling his mouth even for just a second... His stomach fluttered at the mere thought.

He paused with the whitey tighties just below the exposed cock, drinking in the sight of his brother's white body splayed and open on the bed. So... vulnerable. It would be too easy.

Gilbert's eyes were closed. He might even be asleep already, his face looked so peaceful and innocent.

Innocent. That was something Ludwig was not, and he knew it. And yet, as he gazed at his brother, he couldn't bring himself to infringe upon Gilbert's innocence any more. He had done enough, too much, already.

Ashamedly, he pulled the briefs up over Gilbert's hips, making him relatively decent once more.

_How could you even consider such a thing, Ludwig? Licking someone's genitals while they're unconscious has to be some sort of illegal, not to mention definitely immoral. You'd be molesting your own brother. Perverted sicko._

With a sigh Ludwig began undressing himself. He knew he needed to stick around and make sure Gilbert didn't choke on his vomit or anything. He cursed himself for choosing to wear briefs that day as well; what would Gilbert think if he woke up and found them both in nothing but underwear? They'd always worn boxers when sharing a bed before, and somehow that seemed more, acceptable. But Ludwig went through it logically.

He had needed to dress Gilbert, and there wasn't anything clean but whitey tighties, and he knew Gilbert didn't like sleeping in a shirt. He himself was wearing briefs and preferred to sleep in them rather than his clothes. He couldn't borrow a t-shirt because he would probably stretch it. But he needed to sleep there to keep an eye on Gilbert.

Well, at least he had a pretty watertight argument if Gilbert asked. He could pretend like he didn't think there was anything odd about it. After all, was sleeping together in boxers really that much better? It was hardly more modest.

Ludwig crawled into the bed, shoving his brother over and pulling the covers up around them. Gilbert looked up for a moment, then put his head back down. Ludwig flicked the lamp switch off.

Gilbert muttered something incoherent.

"Hm? What did you say?" Ludwig asked, unsure if it had been a request.

"I wanna... wanna burrito."

"...You can have a burrito tomorrow, Gilbert."

"Mmm, chicken... I wanna tichen, a, a kitchen burrito."

"Go to sleep."

Ludwig had been maintaining an inch or so of space between them, but now Gilbert rolled over and swung a clumsy arm around his little brother, snuggling up to Ludwig like he was a giant teddy bear. Ludwig stayed still. It was Gilbert's doing, not his, so he couldn't be blamed, could he?

"Gilbert..."

"Nnn?"

He had to ask. Maybe he would only get nonsense out of him, or maybe the alcohol would help the truth spill out. "Why... why did you kiss me?"

"Nnn?"

Ludwig propped himself up a bit. "The kiss. Why did you kiss me?"

"Who kissed ya?" Gilbert asked groggily.

"You did."

"Kesese, whad'ya talkin' 'bout? In yer dreams, Luddy!"

Ludwig sank back to the pillow in disappointment. His brother was right, it was in his dreams. Even the kiss earlier that night might as well have been. Gilbert was drunk enough to almost go down on his boyfriend in front of a crowd of people, talk to a lamppost, and urinate in public. A kiss didn't mean anything.

It would remain Ludwig's single snatch of paradise, his one memory of indescribable pleasure, the only time he had truly kissed his brother.

Hopefully, Gilbert wouldn't remember in the morning, and it would remain Ludwig's own perfect, private moment to relive over and over again.

He let his brother wrap his arms around him without complaint, and soon Gilbert was in the deep sleep of drink.

Ludwig, however, was awake for a long time, trying to recapture the fleeting, perfect sensation of a forbidden kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: big developments coming up!


	19. Chapter 14

"Gilbert, I love you. More than I think you realize. More than I think I should. Would you be open, to, maybe…"

"Gilbert, I'm in love with you. I know, it's crazy, but it's how I feel. Do you think you could see me the same way?"

"Gilbert, uh, what are your thoughts on consensual incest? Hypothetically speaking, of course."

"Hypothetically speaking, would you want to have sex with me? Hypothetically."

"So, Gilbert, what would you do if I said let's drop everything and fuck like rabbits?"

Ludwig sighed. It was pointless. He fully recognized the absurdity of each sentence as he ran them through his mind, and it was as if a little voice in his head couldn't help but make fun of his hopeless situation. What was the difference, really, between proposing that he and his brother fuck like rabbits and trying to tell him, calmly, seriously, how he felt? Because they were equally ridiculous. Either way, Gilbert would be scandalized. Horrified. Disgusted. Or God, even worse, he might pity him.

Ludwig didn't think he could handle that.

Pity rather than love. Could there be a worse insult? Ludwig would far rather his brother scream and kick him out of his room than lavish condescensions on him as if that could make it better.

As if anything could ever make it better.

There was simply no way in the world Ludwig could—or would—ever tell him.

Ludwig gazed at Gilbert's peaceful sleeping face on the pillow next to him. He was out like a light, and probably wouldn't be completely sober yet when he woke up.

A little string of drool hung from the corner of his open mouth. Kind of gross. But kind of… cute.

_Ugh, you're hopeless, Ludwig._

Hopeless. That was the word for it. What good could possibly come of any of this? Ludwig had a mental image of him and Gilbert sitting together on a couch, in their thirties or forties, Gilbert married with kids. Maybe Ludwig too, or maybe he'd still be too hung up on his brother. Maybe they were together for a holiday, in this picture in his mind. And maybe then, years from now, the truth would come out, and maybe, for whatever reason, they would have sex on that couch. And then their families would find out and leave them and shun them.

Alternatively, maybe Gilbert would have already found out by that time. And maybe Ludwig would simply be happy to see his brother, and would want to sit close, give him a hug. Or maybe, if their father had just died, because he supposed that would happen someday, Ludwig would want some comfort from his older brother. But Gilbert would be hesitant to give it. He would worry about getting too close, and maybe not even because he was uncomfortable, but because he would worry about encouraging Ludwig, or making it harder for him, if he knew how bittersweet physical contact was for his little brother.

Or, maybe Gilbert would be blissfully oblivious, but Ludwig would have to abstain from getting too close so as not to feed the terrible flame inside him. He would always want to see Gilbert, to be with him, but would also worry that every time he was only making it worse for himself.

And so they would sit on that couch with several feet of impregnable space between them, and no matter what, Ludwig couldn't be truly happy, even decades from now.

Ludwig huddled further under the blankets, trying to dispel the cold picture from his head and at least enjoy the warmth of his brother here and now.

Gilbert's arms were no longer around him, but they were still lying quite close. In a few places, along his legs, stomach, arms, he could feel their skin barely touching. Ludwig tried to put his mind in those places, to memorize the feel of Gilbert's flesh because all too soon the sensation would be gone.

His face was close to his brother's chest. He stared at Gilbert's pink nipple for a while, wondering what it would feel like between his teeth and simultaneously feeling guilty for scrutinizing Gilbert so while he was sleeping.

He gritted his teeth. _I'm just looking. No crime in that._

But Gilbert's pectorals were right in front of him… and so he let his head fall forward the tiniest bit more to brush his lips against the warm, firm skin, keeping two nervous eyes on Gilbert's sleeping face all the while. After a few moments of stillness and soft warmth against his dry lips, Ludwig puckered them slightly to press a proper kiss there just beneath a rosy bud, then drew back immediately, heart pounding. Gilbert didn't stir.

But that wasn't right, he shouldn't do that. Kissing your sleeping brother on the cheek or forehead or nose was one thing—certain places were okay, perhaps, but Ludwig felt fairly certain the chest wasn't one of them. At least not when you harbored feelings like Ludwig did.

He huddled close to Gilbert again, determined not to touch him any more than was proper. But that didn't mean he couldn't still appreciate his presence in other ways, letting his eyes linger over the body that lay half-exposed to the air, and sniffing in that Gilbert scent, subtle yet definitely there a few inches from his face. Ludwig wondered what made Gilbert smell the way he did, whether it was some musky cologne he used, or his laundry soap or just his natural odour… Maybe it was the latter, since it did seem rather similar to Ludwig's own smell, as far as he could tell. That olfactory reminder of just how biologically close they were twisted his stomach in a knot of unease and perverse pleasure.

_Ludwig you sicko, stop perving over sleeping next to your brother… Do you need to taint every innocent moment between you?_ He rolled his eyes at himself and closed them to try to sleep, but it was difficult with the smell still there and the warmth still there and so that vaguely fluttery, vaguely sick sensation in his gut remained too.

But a few moments later he was spared from his futile efforts when Gilbert stirred. Ludwig shuffled back from his brother a few inches and pretended to be asleep. He felt Gilbert's arm fall across his chest again.

"Mmm… huh?" Gilbert groaned groggily. The arm moved away again and Ludwig cracked open an eye. "Lud?"

Ludwig yawned noisily and blinked a few times. He smiled. "Morning."

Gilbert narrowed his eyes in confusion, propping himself up on one elbow. "Huh? D'you…" He rubbed a hand over his face. "Whuh…" Then he blinked a few more times, suddenly more alert, and peeked under the blankets. "Ack! What—" He wiggled away, drawing the covers around him more modestly. He laughed nervously, a blush blooming across his cheeks. "Uh, why are we in our underwear Lud?" he asked, an odd expression on his face.

"Oh, uh, well, do you remember last night?"

Gilbert stared at him. "N-no…" he stuttered anxiously.

"Oh, well, you were, um, quite drunk, and I uh, had to get you changed, but, you didn't have any clean boxers, so… sorry."

Relief washed over Gilbert's face, but he was still confused. "Oh—wait, but why are you…?"

"Oh, uh, well like I said you were really drunk, so I figured I should stay here for the night to keep an eye on you… but I didn't have anything else to sleep in… Uh, you don't mind, do you?" Ludwig's face was much too hot. And he felt guilty. Deceitful.

_But it's not a lie._

"Oh, um, no, 'course not, just… uh, no clean boxers, huh?" Gilbert was still blushing. He rubbed a hand over his face again. "Shit. Still feel a little drunk… and a little hung over. Fuck. Drunk and hung over at the same time."

"I'll get you some water," Ludwig offered, and hopped out of the bed to throw on his pants.

"Yeah, thanks, I'm parched."

When Ludwig returned a moment later from the bathroom with a full cup Gilbert was pulling on a pair of jeans. "Wait, did you say… you had to _change_ me?" he asked, squinting at his little brother.

Ludwig blushed. "Yeah, well, you were, um, you weren't really dressed in… well, you were wearing Liz's tights."

Gilbert blinked. "I was what?"

"You were wearing Liz's tights," he repeated slowly, "with nothing underneath."

Gilbert simply stared.

Ludwig sighed and held out the cup of water to his brother and proceeded to explain, with considerable embarrassment, how he had found Gilbert at the party and managed to get him home. Leaving out certain select parts, of course.

Gilbert looked dumbstruck. "Shit, I don't remember any of that… Hell, I don't even remember you coming to the party… or, uh, getting up on the table and all that…" Gilbert was blushing again. "Wow, um, sorry 'bout that…" He took a gulp of water. "Thanks, though. Y'know, for putting up with me."

"Sure," Ludwig said with a shrug.

"So… I didn't do anything, right? Nothing too bad?"

"Well, you did pee on a tree, but no one saw. Well, except for me. But, uh… no, that was the worst of it."

"Oh, heh, phew." Gilbert took another long drink. "Damn, Liz's tights…" he muttered, then rubbed his eye. "Shit, forgot to take out my contacts." He shuffled into the bathroom.

"Want to eat something?" Ludwig suggested when he came back out.

"Oh, uh, nah, I'm feelin' a little queasy," he replied, throwing on a shirt.

"Food can help settle your stomach."

"No thanks, bro, don't wanna risk it."

"Gilbert."

Gilbert looked at him. He sighed. "Alright, alright, maybe a little toast."

"What about pancakes? You love pancakes."

Gilbert snorted. "I'm not gonna make pancakes now, Lud."

"Then I will. Pancakes sound great. You have flour?"

"Uh, yeah, I think… Roddy usually keeps the pantry stocked for all his pansy cakes. Heh, pansy-cakes. Pancakes, pansy-cakes, kesesese."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, never mind."

"Good. Then I'll make pancakes."

Ludwig put his shirt on and they headed down to the kitchen. Gilbert sat at the counter watching as Ludwig busied himself over the stove.

"You don't have to do this, y'know."

"I know, but I want to. It's been a while since I've had pancakes." That wasn't the real reason he was making them, of course, but he would let Gilbert believe it.

"This isn't some sort of apology, is it?" Gilbert asked suspiciously once Ludwig had divided the steaming cakes onto two plates.

"An apology for what?" he started to ask, but just then Vash came into the kitchen in search of lunch.

The severe-looking blond glanced his way as he opened the fridge. "Oh, you slept over again."

Ludwig blushed. Did Vash mean something by that? It didn't sound like it though, just a statement of fact. "Uh, yeah."

"C'mon Lud, let's eat upstairs," Gilbert said lightly, grabbing the bottle of maple syrup and his plate.

Ludwig glanced back at Vash as they left, but Vash seemed engrossed in constructing a sandwich.

Back in the room, Gilbert hopped onto his bed, plate in hand.

"Are you going to eat on your bed?"

"Sure, why not?"

"You could spill the syrup on it."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "No I won't. C'mon, sit up here." He patted the spot next to him.

Ludwig eyed the bed and the bottle of syrup skeptically, but didn't pass up the chance to sit next to his brother.

"What was that you were saying before? About an apology?" he asked, pleased to see Gilbert digging into his late breakfast.

"Oh, y'know. For yesterday."

"For getting you home?" Ludwig asked, confused.

"No, for… you know, at the restaurant."

"…Oh." Ludwig had almost forgotten, he was so preoccupied with what had happened last night. "Uh, no, no it's not."

"Well good. Because that would be way overdoing it."

They both took a few bites in silence, save the sound of their chewing.

"…I am sorry, though."

"Lud, I told you. It's fine."

Ludwig took a few more bites, then asked, hesitantly, "Was… last night… Were you drinking so much because of Dad?"

Gilbert shrugged. "So what if I was?"

Ludwig sighed. "Just, you shouldn't let him get to you."

"Get to me? Y'know, it's kinda hard not to let it get to you when you come out to your only parent and his reaction is to walk out on you." He stuffed a large piece of pancake into his mouth.

Ludwig remained silent.

Gilbert glanced at him after a few moments. "What's eating ya?" he asked around a mouthful.

Ludwig watched the syrup pooling on his plate. "Nothing."

"Bullshit. C'mon, what is it? Ya don't feel guilty, do ya?" He clapped a hand on Ludwig's back.

"N-no—well, I mean, I just…" _Just what? What do I say without saying everything?_ "I just… I guess…" To avoid having to say anything he stuffed another bite in his mouth hastily.

Gilbert simply waited while Ludwig chewed. When he didn't say anything after swallowing, Gilbert started, hesitantly, "Y'know, I been wondering… you said something, over break, about relationships and having an open mind... Was there something in particular you were wondering about?"

Ludwig's mouth went dry. "Particular? N-no, I was just asking theoretically…"

"…Hm. 'Cause, I mean, if… Well, just, you know that if you have any questions, you can ask me. If you're, y'know, questioning your sexuality or anything like that…"

Ludwig felt much too hot. "You… think I'm gay?"

"Uh—no, I didn't say that, I just meant—well, I don't know. Just, I can imagine that, maybe, if you were wondering about anything like that, Dad's reaction to me telling him might be a little unnerving." Gilbert shrugged. "That's all. And, y'know, it's okay to question those things."

Ludwig swallowed. "…Oh. Yeah. No, you're right, just… I don't know."

Gilbert waited. Then he asked, softly, "Anything you wanna talk about?"

_Yes. So much. Everything._

"No." But damn his voice, it sounded too high, too shaky, too unconvincing in his ears. "…But… well, maybe… what about this stuff with you and Elizaveta and Roderich?" he questioned sheepishly. Maybe that would shed some more light Gilbert's open-mindedness.

Gilbert reddened. "Oh, that? Uh, well, it was nothing really… Just, uh, I actually hooked up with Rod before I started dating Liz, and after I had been dating Liz a while we were kinda like, 'well, why don't we get someone else to join us? Could be fun' and so we got Roddy in with us, but I guess somehow it kinda got more serious than just sex, so we were really in a three-way relationship for a bit… but, it didn't work out, and Liz and I ended up splitting. Then Liz and Rod decided to date shortly after."

Ludwig thought Gilbert sounded the slightest bit bitter, even now. "…Why didn't it work out?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Guess it just came down to good ol' fashioned jealousy."

"…Do you regret it?"

Gilbert frowned. "Regret? I dunno. I don't think so. It just, is what it is I guess, I don't think I did anything wrong, per se."

"Well, do you think that kind of relationship can work?"

"A ménage à trois? Why not? Just wasn't right for us, I guess."

"So… but… Are there any kinds of relationships you don't think can work?"

Gilbert thought for a moment. "Nah, I really think it depends on the partners. Although… if there's an unequal power dynamic, that can be problematic. Like, someone who's in some position of authority over someone else having a sexual relationship. Not likely to end up well." He shrugged. "What about you?"

Ludwig reddened. "Uh, well, I dunno, I guess… bestiality's kinda… questionable, right?"

"Kesesese, true, I hadn't thought of if one of the partners wasn't human… but hey, who am I to judge, as long as the animal's being treated well? 'Cause, I mean, it's not like sex would be mentally scarring for the animal, as long as it's not physically hurt, I guess."

"Huh. You really are open-minded about these things, aren't you?" Ludwig asked tentatively.

Gilbert shrugged. "I guess. But y'know I think the big test for that is the idea of consensual incest."

Ludwig's stomach did a complete 180 degree flop. Had he heard right?

Gilbert continued. "I mean, that's the one that really makes peoples' stomachs turn. But, hell, I can't really see why any two people can't do just what they want as long as they're not hurting anyone, and no coercion is involved. But what do you think?"

Ludwig's palms were moist and he could swear there was sweat beading on his forehead and back. But Gilbert was speaking so conversationally, like there really wasn't any hidden meaning in his words. _Just act normal. Just have a conversation._

Ludwig cleared his throat slightly. "Uh, about consensual incest?" It felt strange, saying the words aloud, and to his brother of all people. "I… guess… you're right. I mean, consent is what really counts, right? Though… I guess it would still be problematic, in a society that doesn't accept that… and it probably shouldn't be encouraged, because of problems with inbreeding…" _That sounds rational enough, right?_

Gilbert nodded. "Yeah. Homosexual incest wouldn't have that problem though," he said very matter-of-factly.

Another gold-medal worthy flip of Ludwig's stomach. _Is he thinking of me? How could it not at least cross his mind?_ "…True." Ludwig didn't trust his voice enough to say anything more.

"I mean, at the end of the day, it's just a societal taboo, but that doesn't mean anything about the actual morality of the act. I think most people have thought about having sex with their family, but they just block it off. And I'm not talking about any Freudian shit, I just mean that, the brief thought of going to bed with a relative is a natural consideration, but most people are just like, 'do not want.' But I dunno, guess maybe some people think 'do want.'" He shrugged again.

Ludwig stared at Gilbert as he attacked another pancake. He was having a fantasy of Gilbert shoving his plate aside and grabbing his face and kissing him roughly all of a sudden.

He blinked. "Um…" It was too irresistible. "Have you… uh, thought about, me…?"

Gilbert looked at him straight on for the first time in a long while, frosty eyebrows disappearing up beneath his bangs. "You? Uh—well, I mean, sure, as much as anyone—"

Ludwig's gut was engaged in a whole summersault routine.

"Like, the thought's crossed my mind—just briefly o'course. I mean, haven't you thought about me?"

Oh God. His brother was actually asking if he'd thought about sex with him.

Ludwig opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Judging by how his whole face was burning, Ludwig knew he must bear a striking resemblance to a beet. And yet he couldn't bring himself to say a word. _Christ, you're making an idiot of yourself…_

"Kesesese, I take that as a yes!" Gilbert laughed, appearing highly amused. "Aw don't worry Lud, nothing to be embarrassed about. Like I said, it's just a natural thought, but no worries, it doesn't mean you want it or would actually do it. I mean, it's not like you actually want to sleep with me, right?" From his tone of voice it was clear what he expected the answer to be.

But Ludwig couldn't give that answer.

He sat, petrified, wishing more than anything that he could just collapse in on himself, into a tiny speck of discomfort, but no. Instead he was very much present and taking up too much space on Gilbert's bed, taking up too much space in general and sweating like a guilty man in court. And he couldn't say a word.

_You idiot just act normal, just agree with him, laugh it off!_

But he _couldn't_. Every muscle in his body was tense, and his throat constricted. No sound, no air would pass through it. _Of course, Gilbert! Right! Just say it!_ He opened and closed his mouth a few times, in good imitation of a goldfish, but still to no avail.

"Right?" Gilbert asked again, slightly confused as to why he hadn't gotten an answer.

Ludwig couldn't bear it. He couldn't bear sitting there on his bed with a plate of pancakes like everything was fine, normal. With shaky hands, he set his plate aside and stood, not looking at his brother.

_Oh God oh God what do I do? He'll know!_ He struggled to breathe.

"Lud?" Ludwig could hear the confusion in his voice, so innocently curious. "Well, right?" Gilbert laughed a bit. Nervous laughter.

A pause, during which Ludwig didn't move a muscle.

"Hey, Lud, look at me." Concern in his soft voice.

Very slowly, Ludwig turned. He looked into his brother's face, helpless. There was no use hiding it now, because suddenly Ludwig knew: this was the end. Gilbert would find out, because Ludwig couldn't lie so blatantly to his brother. All along, all Gilbert had to do was ask the right question, and it would come out. He would recognize the truth.

And the thing was, Ludwig realized, he _wanted_ him to figure it out. He was so tired of this burden, this secret, this guilt, he couldn't care to hide it any longer. He didn't even have to do anything. Just stand there, and slowly Gilbert would realize. And that's all Ludwig could do. Stand there.

He looked at his brother desperately, face full of exhaustion and silent apology and shame, because he knew, with all his being, what a piece of scum he was for this truth.

He watched, terrified and resigned and relieved to just let go, as Gilbert's brow furrowed. The older boy studied his younger brother for a moment, then blinked. His burgundy eyes were unreadable.

A long moment passed. Then Gilbert spoke. "Ludwig," was all he said. It wasn't a question. But still his expression betrayed nothing, with his slightly furrowed brow and tilted head.

Another pause. Then Gilbert opened his mouth ever so slightly wider, before beginning, "What are you… Are you… saying you, _do_ want…" here he swallowed, slowly, "to, _sleep_ , with me?" His voice ended in barely more than a whisper. And still his expression had not changed.

Ludwig was trembling. His breaths were short and shaky. "I—" His voice caught in his throat. Suddenly his legs felt very unreliable, not solid at all. "I—"

He could feel something rising in him, something against his will, working its way hotly up his chest and throat. He brought a shaking hand to his face, squeezed his eyes shut. _"I'm so sorry,"_ he mouthed, unsure if any sound came out. He was full to bursting.

And then the dam broke.

He gave a terrible, shuddering sob. _"I'm so sorry,"_ and there was definitely sound this time, wailing, strained and ugly. He could feel himself collapsing, and he staggered till he caught himself on the bed, choking and gasping "I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry…" as tears flowed freely and hotly down his face.

"Ludwig—"

He hardly heard his softly spoken name above his own pathetic, aching sobs, but he couldn't have pulled himself up from the mattress where he was melting. Everything inside him was collapsing, every bone and muscle and every hope and fantasy he'd had for this moment. It wasn't supposed to be like this, lying in a puddle of snot and tears and pathetically clutching the blankets beneath him as uncontrollable sobs racked his body and made his ribs quake painfully.

"Ludwig!" And then there were hands on his shoulders and sides, tugging gently, trying to lift him, but Ludwig resisted. All he wanted to do was curl up, hide in darkness, and never have to see his brother's face, never be forced to face the consequences of what he had done.

The hands gave up, and for one wild moment Ludwig thought maybe Gilbert would just leave, and he could be alone with his misery, but then they were replaced with the enveloping warmth of a body pressing against his back. Ludwig was utterly confused for a moment, before he realized Gilbert was hugging him. His brother was _hugging_ him.

Gilbert's arms were around him, and he was saying his name and shushing him like one would comfort a child. Slowly, very slowly, Ludwig calmed, breath by gasping breath growing quieter until he was just a quivering puddle, his rib cage and throat giving small, irregular jolts and a simple, thin line of pure ache running through the core of his body and escaping in tiny hiccups and whimpers that would have been terribly embarrassing, had Ludwig been in any state to care.

"Please don't cry. Please don't cry. I don't wanna see you like this." Gilbert's voice was soft and damp with emotion.

Eventually the hands rubbing his back stopped, and Gilbert's warmth and weight disappeared. Ludwig lay there, exhausted and unable to move. He was still afraid to meet Gilbert's eyes, afraid of the rejection he would surely meet there, afraid to hope otherwise.

"Ludwig, look at me."

Reluctantly, he turned his head and raised his red-rimmed eyes up to meet his brother's gaze. He was surprised by what he found there. Gilbert looked so calm. Calm, but concerned. Not hateful, not fearful, not repulsed, not even shocked.

"Ludwig, I don't wanna see you hurting like this. You haven't done anything wrong." _That's not true, if you knew—_ "Can you sit up so we can just, talk?"

Shakily, Ludwig complied. His head hung and he stared at the floor.

"Hey, hey, look at me." Ludwig couldn't remember the last time he'd heard Gilbert's voice so soft and tender. Maybe never.

Without turning his head much, he looked up at his brother from underneath the few bangs that had fallen loose. His mouth was a grim drawn line, waiting for just the right trigger to twist it into another despairing wail.

"Ludwig." Gilbert stared at him for a long moment. "You just, nod, okay, if what I say is right." He took a breath and held it for a moment. "So, you're saying that you… have, um, sexual feelings, towards me?" Gilbert's eyes squinted a bit in uncertainty.

_Sexual feelings. Towards you._ Ludwig almost wanted to start crying again at that. But he forced it down and closed his eyes, giving the tiniest of shameful nods.

Gilbert was silent for a moment.

This was where, if this had been like all his fantasies, Gilbert would envelope him in a passionate embrace and crash their lips together. This was where he'd proclaim his undying love. Or at least his willingness to try a few things out with his little brother.

"Lud," he began again, and his tone was even softer, fonder now. It sounded strange coming from his brother. "You know I love you, right?"

Ludwig's face contorted. He couldn't believe his brother was telling him this, now. He couldn't believe he didn't hate him. But Ludwig didn't cry. He wouldn't cry. Eye's still squeezed shut, he nodded again.

"And that nothing can change that, right?"

A sob threatened to escape, but Ludwig swallowed it. Another nod.

"But…"

That single word made Ludwig's stomach clench. He held his breath.

"…I can't… do that."

Ludwig still didn't breathe.

"…You understand?"

He made a slight noise, something like a whimper or moan, as he tried to control the air evacuating his lungs, and part of him was screaming _you idiot you idiot of course what did you expect you idiot_ and another was yelling _NO_ you _don't understand, you just don't understand!_ He buried his face in his hands.

There was a hand rubbing his back again. "Ludwig... I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, I—I knew something was going on with you, and I—I wondered, sometimes, just a bit, but I—I couldn't place it, I didn't realize— I'm so so sorry Lud…" From the strain in his voice Ludwig could tell he was trying not to cry.

"Why?" It came out of Ludwig's throat high, thin, half-whispered.

"Wh-what?"

"Why? Wh-why can't you?" Doubled over, hands holding his face, he knew it must sound almost hysterical. He must sound ridiculous, but he had to make Gilbert see, had to make him understand, if he could just understand—

The hand stopped rubbing his back. He could hear the breath catch in Gilbert's throat, like he was trying to speak. "Lud…" he croaked out. "Lud, I—"

"B-but you _kissed_ me, why did you kiss me?" He tore his face from his hands to look at his brother, desperate.

The sight that met him made him almost regret it. Gilbert looked positively ill with guilt. "Ludwig…" he whispered. "I was high, you know that, and I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, I know I should never—"

"No! Last night! You kissed me last night, Gilbert! Don't you remember?" His hands flew to grip Gilbert's forearms without thinking.

Gilbert stared at him wide-eyed, mere inches from his face. "Wh-what?"

"Last night! Last night, you—Gilbert don't you _remember?_ "

"OW! Ludwig, let go, you're hurting me!" He ripped his arms from his brother's grasp, flinching backwards on the bed. A new emotion flashed through those wide, red eyes, and it sent a knife straight through Ludwig's heart.

It was fear. His brother was afraid of him.

_No, no, please don't be afraid, don't be afraid, you just don't understand, I have to make you_ understand—

His hands trembled, outstretched where they had been holding onto his brother. "I… I'm… s-sorry…"

"Ludwig, what are you talking about? What happened last night?" Gilbert's voice was high, and still he was staring at him with those scared eyes.

"You… kissed me…"

"…Last night?"

Ludwig nodded dumbly.

Gilbert looked down. He ran a hand over his face. "Lud. I—" He sighed. "I'm so sorry. I was drunk though. You know that. And I know—"

"But you did it!" _That means something, that has to mean something, even if you don't see it._ "You must—"

"No, Ludwig, no, listen to me."

Ludwig's shoulders slumped helplessly. Gilbert stretched a shaky hand out towards him.

"I am _so sorry_ , Lud," he began, voice about as steady as his hand as it reached for his shoulder. "I can't forgive myself, if I made you think… I'm sorry. I know I've done some really stupid shit. But you have to understand, that's what it was. It was a mistake, and it would just be better if we put it behind us—" His voice hitched and he had to stop.

"N-no, no…"

" _Yes._ Ludwig… oh, Ludwig…" He pulled his brother's head to his chest and cradled him there. "I'm sorry, Ludwig, I'm so sorry…" he whispered into his hair as hot tears leaked from his eyes.

"But I just… I just want to be _close_ to you…" _Understand, please understand._

"You _are_ close to me. We _are_ close…"

"No, I—I want to be _closer…_ "

" _Ludwig…_ We _can't do that_ , don't you see? We just _can't—_ "

" _Why not?_ " Gilbert just didn't see, he hadn't thought about it enough—

"I—I don't _want_ that, Lud, I don't want— _stop that!_ " he yelled, almost angrily, as he grabbed Ludwig's hand from where it had strayed up his thigh.

A deep yellow bruise blossomed across Ludwig's insides as his brother pushed his arm back. He was being childish, selfish, he knew, _but I love you, I love you, just give me a chance—_

He wrapped his arms back around his brother, clinging to him like his life depended on it. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry Gilbert, I just—I just w-want to make you h-happy…"

Gilbert was rigid in his embrace, his hands up in front of his chest. "You do, Lud," he said in a very small voice. "You do make me happy, by being my brother."

Ludwig held him tighter. " _No_ , no, please…" He moved his hands to Gilbert's head and back, to his arms, neck, restlessly wandering over his body to find how best to hold him. "Please, please, you don't understand…"

"Ludwig, stop it, just stop it, don't—"

"I love you, I _love_ you Gilbert, please, we could be so good—"

" _Ludwig_ , don't, please stop it—"

"No no no, please please _please Gilbert—_ "

" _Ludwig stop it you're scaring me!"_

Ludwig froze with his arms around his brother's body. He forced himself to breathe as he slowly released him, staring into his face.

He sat there, open-mouthed and helpless, watching as Gilbert leaned ever so slightly away from him.

_Oh God, he hates me, now he hates me and he has every right to—_

Gilbert swallowed. "Ludwig." His voice was low, but firm. "You have to understand. That's not going to happen. Okay?"

Ludwig could feel the tears pricking at his eyes, the hot tingling in his sinuses, and desperation clawing at the pit of his stomach.

"Because you're my brother, and I love you, and we have a great relationship. And I don't want that to change." Gilbert was struggling very hard to keep is voice even.

"Gilbert…" It was a whine and a whisper and a moan all in one.

Gilbert reached for his hands and looked into his little brother's eyes, searching. "You understand that, don't you?"

Ludwig did, he did understand; he understood that that was how Gilbert felt now. But still, he was convinced Gilbert simply hadn't thought things through, hadn't figured out that their relationship could change for the better. And his chances for convincing him were slipping away.

"But, have you thought about it…?"

Gilbert's brow furrowed, pained. "Ludwig, please, I've told you—"

"But is it, is it not appealing enough? I—I know I'm not that attractive, I'm sorry, I'm not your type—"

"Ludwig! Ludwig, that has nothing to do with it! You—" He sighed. "You're an attractive guy, Lud." He tried to smile a little. "But you're my little bro, so it doesn't matter if you're my 'type' or not."

"…Do you hate me?" Voicing the words alone almost made Ludwig lose what little composure he had again.

A pained expression crossed Gilbert's face again. He squeezed Ludwig's hands tighter. "No, I don't hate you." A tear slipped down his cheek. "I could never hate you Lud."

"I— I— d-don't deserve y-you…"

"Lud, Lud don't say that…"

"H-how do you not hate m-me?"

Gilbert held his gaze. "Because you're my brother. I'll love you no matter what."

Ludwig closed his eyes. The pain in his sternum, in his gut, was unbearable. "I… I love you so much…" _Can't you love me the same?_

"I know Lud. I know you do." Gilbert was crying freely now.

_But you_ don't _know…_ Ludwig looked at his brother desperately. He couldn't leave it like this, he couldn't pass up this chance, now that everything was out in the open. He had to do something, something to make Gilbert understand, so he wouldn't be afraid of him, so he wouldn't pity him.

All of a sudden, more from pure instinct than any logical thought process, he leaned in and pressed his lips to his brother's, hard, trying to convey everything his words could not. _Gilbert, please Gilbert—_

" _DON'T!_ " A pair of hands were on his chest, shoving him back, off the bed. Gilbert stared at him, breathing hard. " _No_ means _no._ "

Ludwig felt like he had been slapped in the face. He was dizzy; his head hurt. He fell back a few steps towards the door.

The expression on Gilbert's face made Ludwig want to hide himself from the world and never see the light of day again. His brother was looking at him as if he didn't recognize him. He looked lost.

_No means no._ Had Ludwig sunk so low that Gilbert had to resort to such language? He had done so much worse than overstepping a line. He had transgressed something essential. He had betrayed his brother's trust.

They stared at each other, neither moving, neither saying a word.

_Oh God. What have I done?_

Ludwig staggered back another few steps, groping blindly behind him for the door handle. "I…" he tried to start, but no sound came out. "I think…" he managed in a raspy voice, and then choked out, "I should go…"

He didn't wait for an answer from his brother. He couldn't bear the weight of that gaze any longer.

And so he ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: both the bros try to cope in the aftermath of this wreckage. And on Ludwig's part, that involves a visit from the Bad Decision Bears (so to speak).


	20. Chapter 15

Gilbert stared at the door that closed behind his brother.

_I should go after him._

Footsteps hurried, stumbling down the stairs.

_Wait…_

The front door swung open.

_Don't go—_

It slammed shut.

And Gilbert hadn't moved.

He pressed a hand to his lips. Lips that his _brother's_ had just touched.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, simply staring, simply trying to comprehend.

_Ludwig… How…_

_What just happened?_ Gilbert tried to rewind it in his mind. Ludwig running out the door. Ludwig— _kissing_ him. Ludwig, crying, shaking, helpless, in so much pain Gilbert couldn't bear to watch. And all because… Ludwig wanted… _him?_

But how? Why? What did it mean? And only half an hour ago they'd been sitting side by side, perfectly normal, eating pancakes. Fucking _pancakes_. Now the cold breakfasts sat on their plates, syrup-drenched, half-eaten and forgotten on top of the bedspread. Gilbert stared at them. How could they be so, so normal?

Absent mindedly, he placed the plates on his bedside bureau.

But even when they had been eating pancakes together, so very ordinarily, things hadn't really been normal, had they? Even then, Ludwig had… had these feelings. And the night before when he had taken care of his plastered older brother who had stupidly, inexplicably, drunkenly kissed him— _why am I such an idiot?_ —and then when they had slept in the same bed in their _underwear_ for God's sake, and probably when they had shared a bed at the cabin too and probably at the Halloween party when Gilbert, stupid irresponsible Gilbert, had kissed his little brother for the first time and maybe when they'd masturbated to porn together or when they'd had the threesome with Kat or even before that too for who knows how long?

And now, suddenly, everything had come out, and it had happened so fast and there were a million things that Gilbert should have said but hadn't and Ludwig had run away from him and he was hurting so badly and God, he must hate him and _what if he does something stupid I'm such a terrible brother, I'm the worst brother who ever lived—_

A soft rap came at the door. Gilbert's heart leapt into his throat and for one hopeful moment he believed his little brother had come back, decided to give him another chance; but when a voice spoke from the hallway it was not Ludwig's.

"Can I come in?" Vash asked, the uncertainty in his voice an unusual change from his normally terse tone.

"Uh, y-yes!" Gilbert called, trying to sound calm, though it came out all wrong, too loud and high. He hurriedly wiped his face of any treacherous tear streaks that might have remained there. It suddenly struck Gilbert with considerable panic that Vash might have heard crying and raised voices from his room. He wasn't sure how well sound carried from upstairs.

The door opened a little, enough for Vash to stand at the doorframe, half in, half out of the room. "Ah, is everything alright? I just saw Ludwig run out the door, he… seemed upset."

"Oh, yeah," Gilbert said, trying to sound nonchalant as he looked down and pretended to be busy with something in a bedside drawer. He didn't trust his features to remain composed. "He'll get over it," he barely managed to get out. "Just… brother stuff, ya know."

There was a pause, but Gilbert didn't turn to look at his housemate. Then, "Ah. Well, if you're sure…" and then the door closed softly behind him.

_'Brother stuff.' Lame. I'm so fucking lame._

An image of Ludwig, horrified, contrite, flashed across his mind. This kind of stuff should never happen to brothers.

 _I'm not lame. I'm horrible. And stupid. So, so stupid…_ How _could I not have seen?_

Gilbert stared remorsefully at the wall in front of him. Ludwig must be in such pain, and he couldn't stand that. He had to find him, he had to talk to him. Because he was responsible. He had caused this. He had been careless and reckless and done things an older brother should never do, and now Ludwig was paying the price for his stupidity. Ludwig was suffering because Gilbert hadn't set proper boundaries in their relationship, and had done inexcusable things when he was too intoxicated to tell the difference between his dear little brother and the next person. And Gilbert couldn't shake the feeling that if he had simply shown him a little more love, in a properly brotherly way, Ludwig wouldn't be craving such… physical closeness.

He was a failure. Just as he had always feared, he was no better at being an older brother and role model than he was at being a dutiful son.

His insides were in an icy grip, somewhere where heart and lungs and stomach all felt as one and were being constricted slowly, agonizingly. Who was he kidding? What could he do, what could he say, to make this better? Ludwig wouldn't want to see him. Ludwig wouldn't want to speak to him. He probably hated him. And rightly so. He deserved so much better than Gilbert. There was nothing Gilbert could do to make up for simply not being the brother he ought to be.

Suddenly, the one thing in Gilbert's life that he thought he could be sure of, the one thing he thought he might be good at, the one thing he knew he could always find happiness in, made him feel helpless, worthless. He had failed at being a brother.

…

It wasn't until a few hours later that Gilbert finally worked up the courage to walk to Ludwig's dorm. As much as he didn't want to face his brother, and as much as he was sure his brother didn't want to face him, it was only making him feel worse to sit cooped up in his room with nothing that could take his mind off of Ludwig.

And even if Gilbert was a terrible brother, he couldn't leave Ludwig alone to torment himself. He had to let him know he wasn't to blame. He had to at least try to show Ludwig that they could get past this, and promise him that he would try harder to be the brother he should be.

Gilbert found himself in front of Ludwig's suite door before he knew it. His feet had carried him to his destination automatically, but now that he had reached it, fear clenched his stomach once more. He wasn't sure he could bear to see his brother's pained face again.

Shakily, he forced himself to knock.

For several long seconds, there was nothing, and Gilbert almost hoped that no one was home and he wouldn't have to talk to Ludwig. But he loathed himself for it; if Ludwig wasn't there, who knew where he might be or what he might be doing? Gilbert felt sick with guilt at the thought.

But then there was some shuffling from inside and the door opened, only to reveal a short figure with dark hair and eyes rather than the tall blond he had been both hoping and dreading to see.

"Ah, Gilbert, hello," greeted Kiku politely, though Gilbert thought he could sense a tone of unease beneath the boy's perpetually serene mask. Did he know something? Had Ludwig spoken to him?

Gilbert swallowed. "Is my brother in?"

"Ah—no, he's… out."

Gilbert blinked. "…Oh." Kiku looked at him curiously and so he added quickly, "Uh, if you see him, could you… tell him to call me. I just, really need to talk to him." His face felt much too hot; he hoped it didn't show.

"Ah, yes, of course," Kiku said quickly.

There was an awkward silence. Then Gilbert nodded. "Okay, uh, thanks," he said, then turned and started walking automatically down the hall towards Matt's room as Kiku bobbed his head and closed the door.

Gilbert hoped his boyfriend, at least, would be in. He needed someone to talk to. And where was Ludwig? And God, what must he be thinking, feeling, now?

Gilbert considered trying to call his brother. He had almost done so before walking all the way to his dorm, but had chickened out at the thought of the potential awkwardness of speaking over the phone about such a serious matter. But now, he realized his options were diminishing. He pulled out his cell phone, quickly finding "Luddy" in his call history. He had to swallow down a large lump in his throat as he looked at the familiar nickname on the screen. With one shaking thumb, he pressed call, and held the phone to his ear.

He could hear it ringing on the other end. Once. Twice. Three times. A fourth time. And then his brother's voice; but it was only his voicemail recording, asking calmly for him to leave a message, and that he'd get back to him as soon as possible.

_Liar. You're not going to call me back, are you?_

Suddenly he realized the phone had already beeped and started recording. He made a small choked noise, trying to think of something to say, but his mind was completely frozen up. He quickly brought the phone down and pressed end. After a moment's hesitation, he pulled up his texts instead.

Gilbert stared at the blank screen for a while, before quickly writing _Please call me. Please._ He pressed send, pocketed the phone, and headed towards the RA's single.

When Matthew answered his door Gilbert's spirits lifted with relief, but sunk again just as quickly at the expression on his boyfriend's face.

Gilbert blinked. "Uh… something wrong?"

"Where have you been?" Matthew demanded, and there was a veiled anger in his quiet voice.

"What?" Gilbert asked, taken aback.

"Lunch."

Gilbert stared. "Um…"

Matt sighed and beckoned him in. He closed the door. "We were supposed to meet for lunch, remember?"

"…Oh. Oh! Right! I'm—I'm sorry, I… forgot." _Not awesome, Gilbo. Sounding lame again._

"Apparently," Matt said glumly, his lower lip protruding in the kind of adorable pout that made Gilbert feel guilty as hell.

Gilbert grimaced. "Look, this morning has been—I've just been, really…"

"Hung over?"

He frowned. "No! Well, a little, but that was—that's not the point! I've just, things came up and… why didn't you call me?"

"Because maybe I didn't want to call you after being stood up for the second time in less than a day."

"Second time—what are you talking about?"

"Last night! Last night, Gilbert, when you left me at that party with people you know a lot better than me after trying to give me a blow job on the table in front of them all! It was _humiliating!_ And I didn't know where you were, and I was drunk and confused and got sick all over Tino and Berwald's kitchen counter!" Matt paused suddenly, as if catching himself from his sudden outburst. His chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths and his eyes were filled with anger and hurt.

Gilbert was speechless. This was the last thing he had expected, and the last thing he needed. He had forgotten lunch, it was true, but he had a pretty good excuse in his opinion, and one slip-up like that wasn't something to cry over. But this wasn't about lunch, Gilbert realized; it was about the night before, when once again he had acted irresponsibly, thoughtlessly, and ended up hurting someone he cared about.

His lips twisted in a guilty grimace. But still, this wasn't fair. Matthew had been almost as drunk as him last night, and he had no idea what Gilbert had been through today. He ought to give him the benefit of the doubt rather than pouncing on one missed lunch date. "Look, Ludwig came and dragged me home—and you were too drunk to notice!" _Ludwig._ The name sent a searing pain through his chest.

"I was not _nearly_ as drunk as you, Gilbert! You were out of control! And don't use your brother as an excuse. Don't drag him into this. He's a good kid—way more responsible than you at least. How'd that happen?"

Gilbert felt like he had been punched in the chest. When he managed to speak again he was trembling. "Don't. Don't talk to me about my brother," he said slowly, nearly choking on the words.

"Why?" Matt challenged. "You could learn a thing or two from him!"

"Why don't you date him instead, then?" he shot back.

"Don't be ridiculous, Gil! This isn't about him, it's about you and me!"

"Well then I'm sorry! I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry that I've been so fucking stressed that I wanted to blow a bit of steam at a party, and I'm sorry that so much _shit_ has been going on in my life that I forgot one lunch date! Okay? Happy?"

"No, Gilbert I'm not! I'm not happy! If so much stuff is going on why don't you talk to me? I know you're stressed! Believe me, I know! I know that you haven't been eating right, I've noticed that you've lost weight, and I haven't seen you that drunk in a long time! But every time I try to ask you what's going on, you change the subject! I'm your boyfriend, Gilbert. Just— _talk_ to me!"

"I—" Gilbert paused, swallowed. "I can't," he choked out.

Matt's mouth set in a thin line. "Well. That gets us real far, Gilbert. What is it, don't you trust me?"

"Of course I—"

"Then what is it? If you trust me what's the issue?"

Gilbert looked away guiltily.

Matthew sighed. "I know… I know we haven't been dating that long, but, it's just that… well, I guess I always thought that's what being with someone was for. They're supposed to be there for you, but I can't do that if you won't tell me what's wrong," he finished quietly.

There was a long silence in which neither of them looked at the other. Finally Gilbert spoke. "I… I was wondering if, if you wanted to come over tonight…" he trailed off, looking at his feet, not daring to hope the suggestion might make things better.

Matt continued staring at the opposite wall. "I can't. I'm RA on duty tonight." He didn't sound particularly apologetic.

"Oh. Okay." Gilbert hesitated awkwardly, wondering if he should just leave. He felt awful. Everything was so confused with Ludwig, but he thought that Matt, at least, was something sure, something comforting. But now there was a terrible leaden weight in his chest. "I, um… We'll talk later, yeah?"

Matthew seemed to let out another slight sigh. He nodded.

Gilbert paused once more, looking at his boyfriend's disappointed face. He almost said 'I'm sorry,' but caught himself and left the room quickly.

Gilbert walked down the hall with purpose, because if he walked too slowly he was afraid he might come to a point where it simply wasn't worth it to put one foot in front of the other anymore. When he reached his brother's door, however, he had to stop. He stared at the door a while, considering. Could Ludwig have come back while Gilbert was with Matt? He almost tried knocking again, but stopped. If Ludwig wanted to talk to him, he would call him, like Gilbert had asked.

And Gilbert hoped he would call soon.

An acute sadness gripped him as he stood looking at his brother's door. He turned away and headed to the stairwell, taking heavy step after heavy step down, down.

He didn't understand. He couldn't understand. Dear little Luddy, sweet, quiet, shy, polite Luddy, wanted… wanted to…

He could hardly even think it. His feet stopped moving. He closed his eyes.

 _He wants to… have_ sex _with me._

Something clenched uncomfortably in Gilbert's stomach. The mere thought of touching his little brother that way… Ludwig found that appealing? He really wanted Gilbert's touch? To lie naked, sweaty, on tangled sheets?

Gilbert supposed, in all honesty, that Ludwig was quite handsome. Hot, some would say. In fact he had long been envious of his brother's looks. In childhood it had often been a cause of jealousy. When Ludwig was little, people always commented on what a gorgeous, cute little boy he was. Gilbert didn't ever remember that happening to him. But his instinct to protect and mentor as an older brother had prevailed and he had buried those feelings deep within himself.

But they were still there, even now. And when he thought of Ludwig's blond locks, cool blue eyes, athletic stature, skin barely kissed by sun, he was filled with a keen longing. But it was not lust. It was the longing of a painter after the purest form of beauty. It was the longing of one condemned to love, when hate would be so much easier.

When Gilbert had told Ludwig that he had thought of having sex with him, all he meant was that a brief mental image had entered his head. It was hard not to picture such things when the word "incest" was mentioned. When Gilbert had discovered his predilection for twins, of course he had given it some thought, to try to understand what it was exactly that those performers were doing. And he did feel guilty for liking their performance.

But the fleeting picture of him and his brother entwined on a bed, or even the simple thought of their mouths and tongues melding together, simply felt so _wrong_. But Ludwig didn't feel the same. And suddenly these images were so disorienting, because he could no longer take their rejection for granted. Because Ludwig _didn't_.

Gilbert looked down at his phone. He hesitated, then called Ludwig's number, but his brother's phone was off. He pocketed his own in frustration.

_He's avoiding me._

Gilbert didn't have anywhere to go, so he headed towards his house again. He hardly noticed the familiar facades of campus buildings passing by as he walked, thinking bitter thoughts. Did Ludwig hate him so much as to not want to speak to him? Why? What had he done wrong? And what had he done to deserve Matt's outburst? It was uncalled for. Matt was overreacting, being oversensitive, really. Matt ought to be the one to apologize.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that Gilbert didn't hear his name until the second time it was called.

"Gil?"

He jumped slightly and looked up to see two nervous green eyes looking back at him. It was Antonio.

Gilbert stiffened. He hadn't spoken to his once-friend since delivering him several punches on his brother's behalf.

_Ludwig again. Why does everything connect to him?_

"Ah, Gil, glad I ran in to you… I was actually hoping we could talk some time…" Toni attempted a smile.

Gilbert's eyes narrowed. "Now's not a good time."

"Look, Gil, I know you're angry at me—"

"Angry? That's an understatement."

"Hey, would you give my boyfriend a chance to speak?" Bella had appeared at Antonio's side.

Gilbert glared at her. "What, you still dating this rapist?"

Antonio flinched. Bella fumed. "Don't call him that!"

"Gil, look, I know I did something wrong—"

"Oh? Ya think? You have no idea how much you've fucked things up, Toni. Not a fucking clue!"

Toni grimaced again.

"At least he's trying to have a civil conversation! More than I can say of you!"

"You stay out of this, okay?" Gilbert jabbed his finger in Bella's direction. "This has nothing to do with you!"

"Nothing to do with me? How can you say that? He's my boyfriend, and you're making some pretty serious accusations!"

"Oh I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that they were only 'pretty serious.'"

Antonio laid a hand on his girlfriend's arm. "Bella, let's not do this now."

"Oh look at you, trying to be so sensible. 'Bella, let's not do this now,'" Gilbert mocked spitefully.

"You know what? Fuck you!" Bella hurled back.

"'Fuck you!'" he parroted in a girly voice.

Toni tried to pull her away, but she turned back one more time to point a finger furiously at Gilbert. "You—you have problems, Gilbert Beilschmidt! Major problems, and I feel sorry for you." With that she stormed off, pulling a bewildered Antonio behind.

Gilbert glared after them for a moment, then suddenly realized the little scene had drawn the attention of several onlookers. He stalked off defiantly, as if daring anyone to judge him. But he could still feel their stares on his back as he walked away.

 _What do they know? They don't know anything! No one understands anything! God, they all probably fucking hate me. Ludwig, Matt, Toni—well, I don't give a fuck about Toni. But Bella—what did I ever do to her? But she probably hated me all along. Didn't even give me a fucking chance. No one ever gives me a fucking_ chance!

When he reached his house, he slammed the front door by accident, then stomped up the stairs. He met a surprised Elizaveta at the top.

"Gil! Is everything okay?"

"Does it fucking look okay?" he growled as he brushed past.

She raised her eyebrows. "Hey, calm down man."

He spun on her. "Don't tell me to calm down. You have no fucking clue what you're talking about, alright?"

"Well, I can't really have a clue if you won't tell me what's going on, can I?"

"God, why does everyone feel like I should just spill my soul out to them? Just, stop sticking your nose in my business!"

"Hey, I'm just trying to help!"

Gilbert could feel the anger boiling up inside of him. He was aware of it, and a small part of him, detached and observant, was sending him a warning. It wasn't Elizaveta's fault, he was just in an emotionally fragile state and his nerves were fraying. He always knew it when he was getting this way, and yet he could never seem to help it. It was just too easy, too easy to let loose and say all the things some piece of him had always wanted to say, even if he knew they weren't true, even if he didn't really believe them. It felt to good to say what he knew would wound, infuriate.

"Well you're not, okay? You _don't_ help, you just pry and you know what? It's really fucking annoying! Maybe I don't want to tell you! Jesus Christ, no wonder I broke up with you."

"What the fuck, Gilbert? You know, first of all, I'm the one who wanted to break up, and you know what, this is exactly why! You just, don't know what's good for you! Maybe people would like you more if you didn't try to bite their heads off when they're being _nice_ to you."

"Well I wanted to break up with you anyway! Don't know how Mr. Priss puts up with a nosy judgmental bitch like you."

Elizaveta blinked. Her mouth dropped open. "…What? What did you call me?"

"I called you a bitch. A nosy judgmental and oh yeah, oversensitive bitch. Does that bother you? 'Cause I coulda said somethin' a lot worse. Bitch, bitch, bitch."

He barely registered her raised hand before it was slapping him across the face.

Gilbert touched the stinging mark on his cheek in shock. "You—you—fucking _bitch!_ "

"I will slap you again Gilbert Beilschmidt, unless you apologize this instant!"

"What in the world is going on here?" Roderich had emerged from his room down the hall, looking between them like a teacher catching two naughty children.

Gilbert pointed at Elizaveta. "She—she slapped me!"

"He called me a bitch!" Elizaveta pointed back.

Roderich frowned at Gilbert. "Did you call my girlfriend a bitch?"

"She deserved it!"

"He deserved it!"

"Gilbert, that's not acceptable! Apologize this instant!"

"Who died and put you in charge, prick? Jesus, somethin' crawl up your ass and die there? What is with you people?" Gilbert angrily shoved past Roderich and slammed his door in their faces before they could follow. There was banging at the door.

"Gilbert, you are being incredibly immature!"

"Open the fuck up! Open up or I will slap you twice next time I see you!"

"Elizaveta, that's not helping."

"Jesus fucking Christ I am _so furious_ with you Gilbert Beilschmidt!"

"Come on, he'll come out eventually. Let him have his little temper tantrum."

 _You think this is a little temper tantrum?_ "FUCK YOU!" Gilbert hurled from the other side of the door.

"Right back at you bastard!" That was Elizaveta.

Their footsteps retreated down the hall.

Gilbert felt like punching the wall. But he had just enough sense to know that would hurt, so he punched his pillow instead and collapsed on his bed.

For a split second he thought he'd like to talk to Ludwig—his brother always made him feel better in these situations—but then he remembered he couldn't. Because Ludwig hated him. And wanted to sleep with him. _Is that a contradiction? Maybe he wants to hate-fuck me._ Gilbert gave a harsh bark of laughter, but it was humorless. _God, I'd deserve it._

He turned his head and noticed the plates of cold pancakes still on the bureau. Suddenly he couldn't stand it anymore, and he burst into tears.

 _Ludwig, Ludwig…_ The words half reached his lips as he sobbed into his pillow.

A coil of barbed wire was wrapping tighter and tighter around his insides. He wanted, so badly, worse than he had ever wanted anything, for everything to just be alright between them again. Because at the moment nothing was alright with anyone. But if he could just have Ludwig back, even Ludwig and no one else…

_Ludwig… I love you so much, so much, please…_

…

Holed up in his room, Gilbert continued to try to reach his brother till evening. Once he was done crying he lay on his bed in a stupor, automatically pressing call every once in a while. Each time he heard the voice mail response it made him a bit more depressed.

Finally he gave up and tossed his phone on the bed, and for the first time noticed how hungry he was. But he didn't really feel like venturing out of his room lest Elizaveta give him the two promised slaps.

Because she hated him now, and perhaps had never really liked him, just like everyone else.

He tried picking at that morning's pancakes, but then found he had no more appetite.

Eventually he made the half-hearted decision to call his boyfriend, though he was pretty sure Matt didn't want to talk to or see him either.

"Can I… see you tonight?" he asked tentatively over the phone nevertheless. He didn't know what he might do if he couldn't find someone to distract him, someone to talk to. Even though Matthew was pissed at him there wasn't anyone else he could think to try.

"Can't, I'm on duty," Matt reminded him, tone bland.

"…Oh, yeah."

"…I mean, I don't know, I guess you could come over here, though I might have to run off at some point. So, you know, we couldn't really do anything. But if you just want to come sleep in my room…"

"Yeah! I mean, sure. Yeah. I'll come over to your place."

"Okay."

"Um, eleven-ish?"

"Sure, that works."

"Okay. Uh, see you later."

Matthew hung up without saying goodbye. Gilbert sighed. At least he would see him later. It might be uncomfortable after their argument, but it was better than nothing.

By the time it was almost eleven he was beginning to worry, though. Ludwig still hadn't called. Where could he be? What was he doing? Nothing stupid, he hoped. Usually Gilbert was the one who got into bad situations, but he had been surprised in the past by his little brother's emotional stupidity in a few matters. He tended to beat himself up. In that way, Gilbert supposed, perhaps they weren't so different.

He stopped and knocked at Ludwig's door again on his way to Matthew's room, but there was no one home. _Or at least no one answering the door,_ thought Gilbert spitefully. He briefly considered trying Feliciano's phone—Ludwig might be with him—but decided he didn't want Feliciano to catch drift of their family strife if he could help it. It was always difficult to tell how much the seemingly oblivious boy really perceived.

He just hoped his brother was okay.

Tired and worn, Gilbert finally made it to his boyfriend's single.

"Hey," he greeted when Matt opened the door, hoping to defuse the atmosphere.

"Hey," Matt responded quietly. They stood awkwardly for a moment before Matt stepped back and Gilbert shuffled in.

The RA ran his hand through his wavy hair and Gilbert's stomach tightened with longing. It was such a simple gesture, but Gilbert was very fond of it. He wished he could reach out and do the same with his boyfriend's smooth locks, but the situation sadly wouldn't allow it.

"So," Matt began with a sigh. "Um, I'm gonna basically get right to bed, because I could get a call at any time… Sorry, I have to have the phone on high just in case. But, you're welcome to sleep here." He gestured vaguely to the bed.

"Yeah, thanks. Um…" He figured it had to be said some time. "Sorry about today… just, I've been, stressed… well, you know. Uh, yeah. Sorry," he finished lamely.

Matt nodded, though he didn't seem to think it was the best apology he'd ever heard. "Yeah, I know. I just wish you'd talk to me."

Gilbert shifted uncomfortably. "Mm-hm. Well, I'm tired now, though… should just, get to bed…"

Matt sighed. They weren't getting anywhere today. "Yeah, okay."

Gilbert stripped to his boxers and settled into bed as Matthew brushed his teeth and changed into his usual pajama pants and t-shirt. The thought struck Gilbert that it would be nice to have sex. Good stress-reliever. Get his mind off things. He wondered if Matthew would agree to it. Maybe he could convince him that makeup sex was what they needed.

As Matt slipped under the covers Gilbert snuggled up close to him and put an arm around him. He started rubbing small circles on Matt's chest and stomach suggestively.

"Ngh, stop moving," Matthew muttered.

Gilbert stopped, and tried kissing his neck instead. Matt grunted in response. Gilbert pursed his lips and tried a longer, more sensual kiss that went down to his shoulder. Surely, that would let Matt know he was in the mood.

Matthew sighed, but it wasn't in pleasure. "Can I help you with something?"

"Yes," Gilbert responded teasingly. He leaned over and kissed him. God, his lips were soft. And how did Matt always taste so _good?_

Matt hummed a little as they pulled apart. "I see."

"Let's have sex."

Another sigh. "Gil, I can't. I have to be ready to go at a moment's notice."

"Oh come on, please?"

"Not tonight."

"But I want you so bad. Don't you want some of this awesomeness?" To emphasize his point he pressed his hips to Matt's backside and let him feel the small lump that was forming in his boxers. Matt jumped a little.

"Jeez Gil, when are you not horny?" he asked, reddening.

"Hey."

"Serioulsy though, not tonight." He scooted away a little.

Gilbert grumbled and settled back on the pillow with a vague discomfort in his crotch.

But he couldn't sleep. His thoughts kept returning to Ludwig, and what he might be doing at this moment. He almost considered doing a systematic search of the campus for him, but that would get him nowhere fast in all likelihood. He could be anywhere. And so his thoughts went for hours.

Matthew was snoring softly when the RA on duty phone went off. Groggily, he stumbled from the room muttering something to Gilbert about being back in a bit and someone getting their stomach pumped and fucking Saturdays.

Gilbert waited, still trying unsuccessfully to sleep. He missed the solid warmth of Matt's body next to his, so he shifted over to occupy the spot on the mattress he had heated up. What seemed like a long time later, Matthew returned.

"Everything okay?" Gilbert asked as he sunk back into bed.

"Yeah, it'll be fine. Some freshman was throwing up all over the place, that's all."

"Mm." He tried reaching for Matthew's side and rubbing it sympathetically. He nuzzled in for a kiss, making sure to stroke his thumb over his hip bone. "Sure you don't wanna have sex?" he murmured. "Would help you relax," he added, slipping his hands inside Matthew's shirt and tracing lightly over his chest.

This time, Matthew responded. Reluctantly at first, but then more enthusiastically. They were getting hot and heavy, with their hands down each other's pants, and then Matthew slipped under the covers and pulled Gilbert's dick out. Gilbert held his breath in anticipation and gasped slightly when the wet heat engulfed his member, sending pleasurable surges of warmth singing to his stomach.

"Aww, yeah, Mattie… that's so g—"

_Bzzzz. Bzzzz._

Gilbert shot up. That was his phone. It hadn't gone off all day.

Matt's head popped out from the covers too. "Just ignore it; you're not the one on duty," he said with a frown.

"No, I…" Gilbert started distractedly. He shuffled away from his boyfriend and off the bed.

"Seriously? I'm giving you head and you go to check your texts?"

"Might be important." He rummaged through his pile of clothes and reached into his pants pocket to retrieve his phone. He looked at it and froze.

"Come on, come back to bed, Gil. I thought you were the one who wanted to have sex."

"I—have to go." Suddenly he was scrambling to throw his clothes back on.

"What?" Matt squawked. "Wait a sec—what's going on?"

"I'll—tell you later."

"No, now! Tell me now, Gil! What's happening?"

"I can't, I have to go—"

"Just _tell me!_ "

 _"I can't!"_ Gilbert looked at him helplessly for a moment, then returned to his frenzied movements to collect his things.

"Well that's _great_. Just _fantastic_ , Gilbert. You know what? Fine, go! If you're not going to ever tell me a _single fucking thing_ then maybe I don't want to hear it!"

Gilbert cringed a little, but didn't allow himself to think about it too much. He couldn't stop and process anything right now other than the matter at hand, and that was the message he had just received.

"I'm sorry!" he pleaded, heading towards the door.

"Sorry doesn't cut it! Just, don't go! Gilbert, don't walk out that door!" Matthew yelled in a desperate warning.

They looked at each other for one tense moment before Gilbert found his voice.

"I'm sorry," was all he managed before turning away and slipping out of the room.

"I just can't believe you! I really can't!" Matthew called after him, furious and saddened.

Gilbert felt terrible.

But as soon as he was out in the hall he ran for the stairs.

He had to hurry. He had to find Francis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Ludwig's side of the story.


	21. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific warnings: underage alcohol use, graphic sexual content: Hetero (Girl x Boy) and Yaoi (Boy x Boy), sexually coercive situations

Ludwig turned and stumbled through the door, shutting it hastily behind him. It was a minute relief, to know he was blocked from Gilbert's view. To know there was some barrier, however thin, between him and his brother's shocked and wounded gaze.

He didn't stop, however, not even for a second. A door was just a door, and it wasn't even locked. He had to get away. Far away. As quickly as possible.

Down the hallway. Down the stairs, two at a time. Not a glance spared for Vash, looking quizzically around the corner from the kitchen. Dash out the door, slam shut, bound down the porch steps.

With every step Ludwig's legs threatened to give. There was something huge, something terrible, pressing at his brain, but he couldn't let it in. He had to keep running. Get away. Get far away. Make it to the corner. Then up the next block, and the next. Reach the library on the edge of campus. Just get to Campus Walk. Now to his dorm. Almost there. In the door. Up the stairs, two at a time. Finally, the door to his suite.

Ludwig fumbled with his ID as he pulled it from his pocket, sliding it through the lock unsuccessfully. It took him three tries till the light turned green and he turned the handle, rushed into the small entryway. Then two more tries to swipe into his own room.

A quick glance around. No Feliciano. Three steps to the center of the room. Stop.

The door clicked shut behind him. He stood, panting hard. He hadn't bothered to turn the light on, but sun was glaring through the broad window that looked out over the main quad. He stumbled to the blinds and pulled the string, letting them fall shut with a harsh clatter. Darkness.

And still he stood, blinking, breathing. Shaking slightly, too, he realized. He lifted his hands and held them in front of his face, observing their trembling, dull grey forms in the dim room.

And then, because he didn't have anything else to do, he walked to his bed, calmly removed his shoes, and lay down, facing the wall.

There was nowhere more to go, nowhere to run. He was stuck here. Stuck in this room, stuck at this school, this school his brother had so eagerly encouraged him to attend. So they could, spend more time together. Be closer again.

_Oh god. Oh god. Oh god._

Slowly, Ludwig pulled a pillow towards him and curled himself around it, hiding his face in the soft, cool fabric.

Now he was sure he had lost Gilbert for good.

…

He didn't know how long he lay there. He closed his eyes but couldn't sleep. Images of Gilbert filled his mind. Gilbert, staring at him in confusion and hurt, in fear. Slapping his hands away. Going rigid under his touch. Pushing him off in anger.

_Oh god oh god oh god. Oh, oh god._

A large patch of the pillow was wet with his tears. He pulled it to himself tighter anyway, the way one presses down on a cut or an ache because you think the pressure will make it hurt less somehow, and you're not sure if it really helps but you do it anyway. He pressed that pillow into himself as hard as he could.

He had ruined it. Everything. He had ruined everything. The best thing in his life. He had tainted it, twisted it, befouled it, ruined it, absolutely and utterly. And he could never get it back. With a keen pang of distress, Ludwig reminded himself that he only got one life, one chance. And just like that, he had turned his from fairly happy and promising to something perverted and sad and sick. And for what?

The glue that held everything together, made all the pieces fit and make sense, was coming undone. His brother, the constant in his life. The one who was always there, no matter what Ludwig did or what trouble Gilbert got himself into. And it was all his fault.

He bit the pillow until his jaw hurt to keep himself from sobbing.

The door opened. He knew that would be Feliciano. He quickly forced his body to relax as much as possible and pretended to be asleep.

Feliciano was humming a jaunty little tune as he entered the room, but quickly made a soft "Oh!" sound when he noticed Ludwig on his bed. He stopped humming and made his way over to his desk, probably trying very hard not to make any noise as he put down his bag and took off his shoes, but managing to knock over his garbage can with a loud _thud_ nonetheless. A small "Oopsies" followed, until finally Feliciano plopped into his chair and switched on his lamp.

Ludwig stared morosely at the wall in front of him. He didn't particularly feel like facing his roommate at the moment, so he would have to continue pretending to sleep. Which wasn't too difficult, actually. He was exhausted. He didn't have the strength to cry any more, to feel pain. Instead he felt numb. Empty. It was easier that way.

It was several minutes later that a knock came at the outer door.

At first Ludwig thought nothing of it as Feliciano shuffled off to answer it. But then, suddenly, his body stretched into a tight cord of panic as he practically flung himself from the bed and tugged a very surprised Feliciano back from their doorway.

Kiku had emerged from his room to answer the outer door as well, but looked at his suitemates curiously when he noticed Ludwig holding Feliciano back.

"Hm? Ludw—"

"Shh!" Ludwig hissed softly, holding a finger to his lips. He tiptoed past a bewildered Feliciano to whisper urgently in Kiku's ear. "Uh, just, if it's my brother, could you say… I'm not in."

Kiku shot him a questioning glance.

"Please," Ludwig mouthed, fixing him with a beseeching stare.

Kiku nodded curtly and went to the door. Ludwig retreated quickly to his own room, closing himself and Feliciano inside, though he kept an ear at the door to listen.

"Ludwig, what—" Feliciano started, but Ludwig shot him a warning glance that even the oblivious boy understood meant "shut up."

Sure enough, as soon as the outer door opened Ludwig could hear Kiku's muffled voice speaking his brother's name.

And then, that familiar rasp: "Is my brother in?"

Feliciano glanced at Ludwig expectantly, but Ludwig only backed away, staring at the door.

_Please don't tell him, don't tell him I'm in, don't don't don't…_

A moment later he heard the door click shut. His head was pounding. His throat was tight.

Then, a knock on their room door. Ludwig held his breath.

"Ludwig?" It was Kiku. Feliciano answered the door immediately.

Kiku gave Ludwig a look that was hard to read. Ludwig tried to look calm.

"That was your brother. He says he needs to talk to you. He wants you to call him."

Ludwig didn't respond. His lips felt glued shut. Kiku just looked at him, unblinking, a moment longer, then turned and retreated back into his room.

Feliciano closed the door behind him and turned warily to his roommate. "Luddy…? What's going on?"

Ludwig unglued his lips with some effort and finally found his voice. "N-nothing. Just… don't want to talk to him. Had a… little disagreement." He turned away quickly but realized he didn't have anywhere to go. To his desk? He didn't feel like sitting. He certainly couldn't do work. To his bed? Feliciano might find it odd for him to return to napping. He didn't usually nap.

As he was standing in indecision his friend came up behind him. "Ah… Lud? Anything you want to… talk about?" He sounded nervous.

"No. I'm tired." Ludwig decided on bed. Hell, Feliciano was already suspicious. Maybe, if he just pulled the covers over his head he could forget about it all, just for a moment.

But before he could hike his sheets up high enough, his phone started to ring. He knew who it would be. He couldn't pick up.

"Uh, Lud, you gonna get that?" enquired Feliciano, looking at him concernedly.

Ludwig glanced at the phone buzzing against the wood of his desk. Sure enough, _Gilbert_ was emblazoned in big glowing digital letters on the screen. He reached out and picked it up, almost gingerly, weighing the device in his hand.

What if he did pick it up? What if he did talk to his brother? What if Gilbert had forgiven him and was just there to comfort him?

A knot tightened in his chest and something cold settled in his stomach. He couldn't face his brother. Not now, after… everything he had done, said, that morning. The holding, the kiss, the crying, the yelling, the shame. He felt sick.

The call ended, and the phone still sat in his hand. The icons for "missed call" and "new voicemail" popped up, but Ludwig couldn't listen to Gilbert's voice, even in recording. He quickly held down the power button, and with some measure of satisfaction watched the screen go black.

He shuffled under his covers, face to the wall. But Feliciano spoke again. "Um, Luddy, y'know Herk and Kiku were going to go out tonight, I was thinking of joining—but you should come too! It would be so much fun! Maybe… take your mind off, things? We're all stressed right now!" His high voice was tentative, trying to sound casual.

Ludwig took a moment to process the suggestion as he stared at the wall. "Sure," he grunted, before rolling over to bury his face in his pillows.

…

Five hours later Ludwig was buying himself and his friends a second round of shots in the seedy dive Herakles had discovered. They were surprised, but grateful for Ludwig's generosity, laughing together as Ludwig leaned over the grimy counter and waved down the bartender. He felt slightly awkward though, not entirely sure of bar protocol. He'd never been in such an establishment before. But, as Herakles had found out, this particular dump didn't card most of the time.

Ludwig had stayed in bed until it was finally time to throw on something fresh for the evening, insisting to Feliciano that he wasn't hungry, though his roommate had offered him leftover pasta from their fridge repeatedly. The boy, true to his roots, always seemed to have some on hand.

Ludwig barely batted an eye when the bartender asked him to shell out another twenty. Usually he kept a tight hold of his wallet, but tonight Ludwig didn't care. He wanted to get wasted, and he couldn't be bothered to worry about what would be left in his wallet come morning.

A little voice in the back of his head was scolding him as he passed the vile, burning liquid around to his friends and raised his own tiny glass to his lips. _Cliché. Not classy. Typical college student stupidity. Answering emotional distress with the bottle. Pathetic. You'll regret it._

 _Shut up,_ he growled back silently at the voice, and downed the contents of his glass in one gulp. He grimaced. It was like swallowing fire. Fire and window cleaner.

"Another," he said, bringing the shot glass down hard on the wooden counter.

Herakles raised an eyebrow. "Slow down a little, Ludwig. No rush."

"I'm fine! I want another! Who's joining me?"

"This stuff tastes terrible," whined Feliciano.

"I agree with Feliciano. Count me out." Kiku pulled a face.

Herakles blinked at him. "You already bought me two drinks. I don't want to be more in debt to you."

"It's not a debt, you're my friend."

"I think I'll wait, anyway."

Ludwig sighed. "Well, guess I'll be doing my shot alone then."

His friends watched warily as he flagged down the bartender a third time. The small glass was refilled, five singles slid over the sticky countertop, and Ludwig lifted the shot to his lips.

Just then a familiarly accented voice spoke. "It's bad luck to do a shot alone, you know."

He turned, surprised, and looked down to see Angie's big brown eyes twinkling back at him. She smiled broadly, white teeth gleaming against the darkness of her skin even in the dim bar lighting.

She turned to the bartender. "Make that two, please. On me."

Ludwig blinked. "Oh, no, you don't have to—"

Angie laughed a high, musical laugh that reminded Ludwig of something he couldn't quite place. "Really, it's fine. You can buy me next round, how about that?"

His face was hot, and he was sure it wasn't from the alcohol just yet. "Uh… alright."

The bartender passed them their glasses and Angie lifted hers. "To never drinking alone."

Ludwig raised his glass in response and they threw back their heads to down the shots. Angie came up coughing. "God, what is this stuff?"

Ludwig shrugged sheepishly. Angie laughed again—maybe a bubbling stream?—and the corner of Ludwig's mouth twisted up in what he was sure must have been a pretty stupid smile. Suddenly he had a greater desire than usual to not look stupid, though. In fact, he wanted to look cool. He wanted to hear that laugh again, but not if she was laughing at him. Maybe he could think of something funny to say?

"Uh… that Kirkland's a real character, huh?" Immediately Ludwig winced at himself. Bringing up class in a bar? Nothing said stiff-laced loser so well as that.

But a twinkle came into Angie's eye as she tilted her head in consideration. "Hmm, he's got some pretty cute mannerisms, doesn't he?"

 _Cute? Did she just call Professor Kirkland cute?_ "Uh, I mean, I guess…" _Shit, no, now she'll think_ I _think he's cute!_

She giggled. Maybe it was mermaids—that was it, her laugh reminded Ludwig of the mermaids from some fantasy movie he had seen… _What was the name?_ But he couldn't recall, and Angie was speaking again. "Well, he is quite a looker. Nice eye candy when the lectures get dull, at least."

"Er—oh. Really?"

"Oh gosh, I'm pretty sure any girl in the class would tap that."

Ludwig blinked. Well, that wasn't what he was expecting. Suddenly he remembered a certain conversation he'd had with Mathias. "Oh, well, class is usually pretty interesting though. At least, Mathias certainly always has something to add." He eyed her for her reaction.

Angie rolled her eyes. "Oh, you mean Mr. 'I know everything about anything ever and I'm the teacher's favorite?'"

So, her opinion of Mathias wasn't too high. Something strange stirred in Ludwig's stomach at that knowledge. He supposed he ought to look out for his friend's interests—after all, he wasn't interested in Angie for himself, right?—but instead he felt oddly, pleased.

"Yeah, yeah I know what you mean." He nodded quickly.

"It's so frustrating having someone like that in class, isn't it? I mean, he needs to have an opinion on every single thing."

Ludwig nodded again. "Yeah, yeah definitely."

"Hey, how about that drink?" inquired Angie with a smirk that Ludwig found incredibly—interesting.

"Oh, right! What are you having?"

"How about… an Orgasm?"

Ludwig blinked. "Uh—what?"

Angie laughed. Yup, definitely the mermaids. Why couldn't he get that image out of his head? "You know, the drink! It's called an Orgasm!"

Ludwig tried to wipe the scandalized look off his face and play it cool. "Oh, right, right, of course."

"You know, you should try one. Orgasms are pretty good."

Ludwig glanced at her. Did she mean something by that?

"…Or maybe you'd prefer a Blow Job?"

Okay, she definitely meant something by that. "Uh… what's—what's that? I mean, the drink, not—I mean, I know what a—or, uh, what's, in that?" He could feel the blush creeping up his neck and was thankful for the dim lighting.

"You know, I'm not sure. But I do enjoy them." The suggestiveness was too apparent to ignore, and after a second of eye contact they both started to laugh—Angie as if she'd heard a good joke, Ludwig rather more nervously.

Angie got her laughter under control enough to ask, "So, you going to order them?" with a mischievous smile.

"Uh—" Ludwig looked at her a moment with big, surprised eyes.

Angie burst out laughing again. "Oh man, you're cute." She dropped it so casually and quickly Ludwig wasn't completely sure he'd heard it and understood correctly. "That's okay, I kind of doubt a place like this would have those drinks—they're pretty specialty. Maybe they have Sex On A Beach though?"

"Ah—sure, sure!" After a minute of trying to hail down the hassled-looking bartender he succeeded and placed the order.

_Cute. Cute? Like little puppy cute, or like Kirkland cute? All the girls in the class would tap that… Does that mean… she'd tap me?_

He glanced at her sideways. She looked rosy and happy as she watched their drinks being made. _Do I think she's cute? Mathias does. I guess she is. I mean, she's pretty. But do I find her_ attractive? _Not like Gilbert…_

Ludwig closed his eyes. _No, no, no. You promised yourself you wouldn't think about that. Not tonight._ He opened them to stare blankly at the corny movie playing on the bar TV.

Two glasses were shoved in front of him. "Twelve," grunted the bartender.

Ludwig paid up and handed a glass to Angie.

"Cheers!" she said with that coy smirk that tugged a little at Ludwig's gut.

They sipped at their drinks. The alcohol was low grade, but it was so sweet it went down easily anyway. They traded comments about some of their other classmates, and before Ludwig knew it his straw was making the slurping sound that signaled the end of the drink.

"Wow, you really downed that," observed Angie, quickly finishing the last third of her own glass. "I think I'm gonna go for a smoke. Wanna join?"

Ludwig agreed without considering the fact that he didn't smoke. They grabbed their jackets and pushed their way through the narrow, congested space to the front door and stepped out into the brisk night air.

"Shit, it's getting cold! This is why I hate being a smoker," grumbled Angie as she stumbled to a spot next to the front window. She fumbled with her pack of cigarettes before pulling two out. "Shit, that drink was kinda strong, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, pretty strong," agreed Ludwig. His head was feeling quite fuzzy.

Angie handed him a cigarette. "Here. Hope I'm not feeding a habit or something." She dug a lighter from her purse.

"Uh, I don't usually smoke actually."

Angie peered at him. "Oh, well, don't start. It's terrible, really. I hate it. I mean, I love it, but I hate it. I should really quit…" After a few tries she managed to light her cigarette. "But… I'm going to be a hepo—hahaha, oh my God, a _hypocrite_ —see, I can still talk!—and light this for you."

Ludwig held the cigarette between his lips and breathed in as Angie held the lit end of her cigarette against his. She stood rather close as she did this, and he registered for the first time that she was wearing a fruity perfume. Maybe peach…? Or something more tropical…

She stood back as Ludwig's cigarette flared up. He took a drag, then tried to let it out in a controlled manner, but ended up coughing. Angie laughed and Ludwig was strongly reminded of the last time he'd tried smoking, sitting with his brother on Gilbert's bed at home. He pushed the thought away and focused on Angie's laughter, on the way her eyes crinkled up when she smiled, on how plump and soft her lips looked. They'd probably feel very nice to kiss, he thought suddenly.

"That's okay, you'll get used to it."

He smiled lightly, eyes watering, and attempted a smaller drag. This time he managed to let out only a very small huff—barely a cough—at the end of his exhale.

Angie took a long, thirsty pull from her cigarette and let the smoke curl out of her slightly open mouth. Again, Ludwig was reminded of another, very different face that looked even more alluring with those grey wisps swirling around it. _Like a white dragon,_ Ludwig recalled.

Angie must have noticed the vaguely troubled concentration on his face because next she asked, "What's on your mind?"

"Oh, uh, nothing. Just a, stressful day." He wasn't sure why he didn't just deny it altogether.

"Mm," she hummed sympathetically. "Yeah, my workload is getting pretty crazy. Nice to unwind like this sometimes."

"Yeah. Plus I… kinda got into an argument with my brother. Eh, but, it was stupid." Ludwig knew he couldn't say much, but he still felt a surprising need to talk about it. Somehow it felt better than just pushing every thought of Gilbert from his mind.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Where's your brother?"

"Umm, don't know… I probably should have gone and talked to him, but…" Ludwig trailed off guiltily and took another puff as an excuse not to finish his sentence.

Angie squinted in confusion, cigarette paused halfway to her mouth. "Oh, wait, so, your brother goes to school here?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, yeah, he's a senior."

"Oh! Well that must be nice. When you're not arguing, at least. I mean, I think it would be nice to have a sibling around. But, I'm an only child. Heh, maybe I just have a—what do they call it, like, a rosy view of it, or something. Do you guys get along usually?"

"Ah, yeah, I guess. We're pretty different, actually, but still, he's—he's a good brother. We… get along. Usually." _But not anymore. Not ever again._ Ludwig felt a lump rising in his throat and quickly tried to mask it with another puff from the cigarette. Maybe bringing Gilbert up wasn't a good idea.

"Hm. Well, I'm sorry you got into a disagreement. Think you'll talk to him soon? Maybe you can patch it up."

Ludwig kept his eyes down. "Yeah, maybe," he said without conviction. "I don't know. I don't—don't really want to talk about him actually."

"Oh, sorry."

"No, it's not your fault." Another drag of smoke filling his lungs. He realized he had put quite a damper on their conversation.

"So," Angie shrugged, "let's talk about something else."

"Um, okay, like…?"

"Uh… kittens. Kittens are great, right?"

Ludwig laughed in spite of himself, throwing her a dubious look. "Kittens? Really?"

The alcohol was beginning to take full effect now, and the cigarette was making him light-headed. Ludwig felt like he was floating and words were starting to fall out of his mouth.

They laughed some more and ran through a list of possible topics. Their cigarettes were stubs by the time they started debating whether movie or travel talk helped you get to know someone better.

"Damn, it's freezing out here, let's go in," suggested Angie, and Ludwig readily agreed. He followed her through the door with a few strides that may not have been in a completely straight line. His head felt like a balloon lifting the rest of his dead-weight body along.

They pushed through the crowd, but the people standing around the bar weren't budging. "Why don't you grab a couple drinks and meet me back there?" Angie called over the din, pointing to the back corner next to the bathrooms, where there was more room to stand.

"Okay." Ludwig turned to the bar, trying to find an opening to squeeze into to place his order. He suddenly realized that he had no idea where his suitemates were. He scanned the room for them without success, though he wasn't sure if that was only because he couldn't seem to register everything his eyes took in at the moment.

He stood uncertainly, waiting for an opening and hoping he didn't look as drunk as he felt. Finally he staggered forward and stuck his arm between a few people to lean on the bar. He raised a finger as the bartender passed. "'Scuse me—'scuse me!" But the bartender kept walking.

A minute later the bartender went by again and noticed Ludwig—or rather, didn't pretend not to notice him. He took another order first, then leaned towards Ludwig.

"Uh, two—Sex On A Beach," Ludwig stated as carefully and clearly as possible. The bartender nodded and Ludwig waited, twenty in hand, as the drinks were made. He put down the bill as the glasses were handed to him and started to turn away, when he heard "Sir, your change!" behind him. He turned back and picked his change up off the counter with a mumbled "Oh, thanks."

Finally he reached Angie at the back of the room, unsure of how much of their drinks he had spilled.

"Thanks!" beamed Angie. Ludwig smiled back.

"Prost!" he said, leaning down a bit. She was really much shorter than him.

She laughed a bit. "Isn't that German?"

He nodded. "I'm German," he said with a large smile. Suddenly that seemed a very cool fact to share.

"Oh neat!"

Ludwig saw her lips move as she said something else, but didn't catch it. "What?"

"I said, were you born there?"

"Oh, yeah! Yeah I moved here when I was really little."

Or at least that's what he thought he said. Maybe it hadn't come out right though, because Angie wrinkled her nose and called back, "What?"

"I was—yeah, I's born there, but I moved here when I's real—li'l."

"Oh, cool. Yeah, you don't have an accent. Not like me!"

"But I like yer accent!"

She laughed. "Thank you! Well, prost!"

Ludwig drank, long deep gulps of the sweet liquid. He was vaguely aware of discussing their homelands, or rather, stating how great Germany was several times, and nodding while not really hearing most of what Angie was telling him about Seychelles. He actually tried to listen, furrowing his eyebrows, but most words simply weren't penetrating.

And then their drinks were gone—glasses disappeared to who knows where—and he wasn't quite sure how it happened, but her hand was on his shoulder and his had settled on her hip. His head was leaning forward—partly because it was difficult to keep it upright—and she was looking up at him with hazy eyes.

"You're pretty cute," she said, the words reaching his ears as if through layers of gauze.

Her other hand came up to his neck and brought his head closer, till his lips were touching those perfect, round, soft so soft ones. And then there was the wetness and smoothness and heat of kissing, and he wasn't sure what his tongue was doing, wasn't sure what his whole body was doing, but there was warmth and softness under his hands, though with the frustration of cloth in the way.

He wasn't sure how long they stood like that, mouths glued together. One of her hands was on his face and neck, combing through his hair, while the other pressed against his stomach under his shirt, trailing slowly down towards the top of his pants. His hands found their way up her shirt, because hot smooth skin was so much better than cotton, and one hand was reaching for the roundness of her bra cup as the other rubbed at her supple ass through her jeans, oblivious of their surroundings.

Suddenly she pulled away, and Ludwig was left confused for a moment, hands awkwardly reaching for her body, not quite hearing her say "Wait a second—" and unaware of her reaching around him to grab a bathroom door handle. But then he was being ushered into a bathroom—it didn't occur to him to wonder if it was men's or women's—and Angie came in behind him, shutting and locking the door swiftly.

His hands found her again, mouth sloppily pressing into hers. His whole body was tingling and his skin felt busy, like it needed to be doing something, needed to make contact with something. But most importantly, his cock was straining against his jeans, and his stomach ached with want.

He pushed his hips against hers, hands kneading into her ass. Then suddenly the restraints on his erection lessened, and he realized she had undone his pants and pulled his boxers down. No sooner had he registered the cool air on his cock than a new warmth replaced it, soft and sweet and deliciously working against his member.

He wasn't sure when he stopped kissing her in favor of groaning his approval of her handiwork. When he opened his eyes he realized she had ducked down. One of his fists was clenched against the wall and the other was still holding some part of her body.

He looked down and was somewhat surprised to see Angie's head of glossy black hair bobbing forward and back as her mouth encompassed his cock in velvety warmth. He hadn't noticed when the transition from hand job to blow job had taken place.

The sensation was overwhelming. His skin was on fire, and he just wanted more, more, plunging into that hot wet hole of a mouth. His hand found the back of her silky head and pressed her on. But it was hard to move his hips like this, and Angie was controlling the pace, not him. It wasn't enough.

With a grunt he lifted her up a bit. She stood, his cock still in her hand. Ludwig reached for the front of her pants, fumbling with the button till it came undone. He got impatient with the zipper though and shoved his hand inside without bothering to pull it down.

Angie ground her hips forward against his hand. His fingers found the fleshy softness between her legs and slid further, until he felt her wetness around his fingertips. Angie made a needy whimper, and Ludwig slipped his middle finger inside of her. It was so hot, so smooth, and all he could think of was how amazing it would feel around his cock.

His mouth found hers again, hungrily sucking at tongue and lip, adding an occasional nip as he began to move his finger. It slid so easily inside of her, in and out; it would be so easy, so smooth, to thrust into her.

Her hand had momentarily stopped moving on his shaft, and Ludwig was growing impatient. He was so close to such immense pleasure, and his body needed it badly. He didn't want a hand, he wanted complete, encompassing heat and tightness to slam his hips into, and a body moving against his own, warm and responsive.

He pulled away from the kiss and removed his hand from Angie's pants, and taking hold of the sides of her jeans pulled them down hastily to reveal smooth thighs and a triangle of trimmed dark hairs, a few wet folds visible just beneath.

Taking hold of his erection he moved closer, lifting one of her legs a little to make room for him to enter her as she braced herself against the wall.

For a split second, he wondered why he was doing this. His mind was far from clear, but he knew the face in front of him, flushed with lust, was not the face he wanted to see, and yet here he was ready to fuck this girl he barely knew. For a split second, he wondered if it was alright to go about doing it this way—dick in hand, demanding without words that she spread her legs—even if she did seem willing.

But then he remembered that he wasn't any better than that. He remembered Gilbert looking into his eyes, and he remembered kissing him, the hands on his chest shoving him away, because he was the kind of guy who did those things without asking. So Angie would just shove him away too, if she wanted. What did it matter?

He hefted her leg a bit higher, though it was difficult with her pants only partly down, and inched in so his member slid against her slippery pussy.

"Wait—" Angie stumbled a bit in the awkward position, pulling her leg from his grasp.

He wondered vaguely if she was going to leave, tell him to get lost. But she simply put her leg down so she could pull her jeans and undies the rest of the way down. She fumbled a bit with one of her boots until she could get her foot out and pull the pants the rest of the way off her leg. Then she lifted her leg again, higher, and braced her foot against the sink.

Ludwig didn't hesitate. He stepped forward and guided the thick head into her tight slit. She gasped a little and her hands dug into his shoulders.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Ludwig realized this was his first time inside someone like this, his first time having actual sex. But it was only a passing thought, and he pushed the rest of his shaft into the welcoming, constricting heat.

Ludwig hadn't realized he had closed his eyes until he opened them again and found himself looking at the ceiling. Automatically his hips began to contract, pulling back only to push in again, into that sliding, delicious, tight tight hot hot passage. Her pussy seemed to cling to him, pulling him in again, again, deeper, harder, faster, pulling at his cock, pulling pulling so so tight everywhere—

"Ffffuck…" he groaned, oblivious to Angie's own gasps and moans of bliss. He kept thrusting, in and out, feeding the tightness in his stomach but not enough, not quite enough…

He pulled out quickly. "Turn around," he breathed urgently. She did, placing her hands against the wall as he pulled her hips towards him.

He entered her again, quickly, not waiting for her to adjust before he began snapping his hips forward.

"Oh! Oh! Ah!" Angie exclaimed softly, leaning further into the wall with the force of his thrusts.

Ludwig grunted with the effort of the pace but didn't let up. This was too good, this was too perfect, sinking his cock deep inside that blissful cushion of heat over and over. The cord deep in his gut tightened, thrills of pleasure singing from his cock to his navel like electricity.

His large hands gripped her round ass, rolling her pelvis against his own in repeated gyrations. Her hands were slipping down the wall inch by inch, giving him a better angle and a better view as he spread her ass cheeks to watch himself disappearing inside of her. It was almost surreal through the haze of alcohol and sex.

Then he caught sight of the puckered pink hole just above where his shaft was pushing in and out, and fierce desire gripped his stomach, even his chest. He withdrew, only to press his reddened head against the ring of muscle, but not in.

Angie made a surprised noise.

"Can I?" he asked, voice heavy and gravelly with lust.

"C-careful!" Her voice was tight with worry.

But it was enough for Ludwig at this point. He wanted to feel that tight ass gripping his cock. He pressed forward, but the head had barely started to penetrate when Angie let out a squeak of pain.

"Slowly!" she gasped.

Ludwig pulled back and stretched her cheeks open, pulling with his thumbs near the small entrance. Oh god it was probably so tight in there… He let a string of spit drop from his mouth to her ass, but his aim was off and he had to push it into the hole with his fingers. Angie squirmed a bit at the cool liquid slipping inside of her. Ludwig poked a finger in after it, feeling around her smooth walls. He wanted to feel them with his cock, though, so he brought his hand back to his mouth and spat into his palm, quickly using it to coat his shaft before pressing against the resistant entrance once more.

The head sunk in, slowly, despite Angie's small gasps and occasional clenching. It was gut-wrenchingly, exquisitely tight. Once his shaft started to disappear, though, Angie's exclamations grew louder.

"Oo oo ow stop!"

Ludwig stopped. He spit again, lubricating the area around his cock as Angie panted, her head resting against her hands on the wall, bent more than ninety degrees.

Ludwig pushed forward again, trying to go as slowly as possible, but the heat was so inviting, and he wanted that velvety tight space around the rest of his length. Angie whined, but didn't say anything more.

Then finally, he was fully inside. And it was incredible. Though in his impaired state Ludwig couldn't fully appreciate the fact that he had never felt anything like this before, his body responded fully well to the scorching heat that engulfed his cock.

His stomach swelled with ecstasy as he began to withdraw, barely registering Angie's small noises of discomfort.

He seemed to be experiencing some sort of tunnel vision. His eyes only focused on one thing at a time, and the periphery simply slipped away into obscurity. And at the moment, his focus was on the ass in front of him. He couldn't help but think, as he watched himself disappear inside, that this must be something like fucking a guy. Driving into the tightness between two exquisite buttocks. And if he imagined they were milky white rather than well-tanned…

An image popped into Ludwig's head as he ground his hips into Angie's ass: Gilbert, running down the path in the rain before him, naked as the day he was born, small, toned, but supple ass flexing with every step. The way it moved was so… appealing.

Ludwig let out a groan. The sensations in his cock, the feeling in his groin, were so sweet as he plowed in and out. And the thought of his brother's taught ass cheeks clinging around him, clenching, pulling wanting, so hot hot hot and his body under him pulsing, panting, groaning—

"Aaannhhh—mmff!" Ludwig dug his fingers into Angie's hips and slammed himself as deep inside as possible one last time, white-hot seed coursing through his cock to fill every crevice of her passage.

One moment, everything was tense, muscles eyes hands all squeezing, the world outside his orgasm non-existent. And then, with a shuddering sigh, everything relaxed. The bathroom came back into view, and his body seemed to melt as he stepped away from Angie's bent form, limp cock slipping out of her, limp arms and legs unsure of what to do with themselves. His head tingled.

Slowly, Angie stood. She took a paper towel calmly from the dispenser and reached it behind her to wipe between her soft round buttocks, catching a bit of Ludwig's come that leaked out.

He stood awkwardly, pants still slung low around his thighs. "Uh, you, you ok?" he asked uncertainly.

Angie glanced up with a small smile. "Yeah, fine. Um, that was—well, yeah. Wow."

He gave a nervous laugh. "Wow. Yeah. Um." He had a feeling she was referring more to the circumstances of the sex than the sex itself.

With a long exhale of air, Angie pulled her pants back up. Ludwig followed suit. He stood aside, trying to seem casual as Angie put her boot back on and examined herself in the mirror.

"Wow, my hair's a mess. Sex hair, haha," she said lightly, attempting to pat it down.

"Oh, you look fine," Ludwig complimented hastily. Christ, how could he not be awkward? What was the protocol for after bar-hookup interaction?

"Oh, thanks," Angie said, slightly flustered. "So, um, I guess… maybe I should go out first? You know, so everyone doesn't see us leaving the bathroom together…"

Ludwig's head was still in a haze. He had forgotten about the world outside this small, dirty room. In fact, he hadn't even taken the time to properly look around the bathroom itself. "Oh, right, yeah. Okay."

"Um, okay… see you out there?"

"Yeah, yeah."

Angie slipped cautiously through the door.

Ludwig looked around the small room for a moment. Everything was still in the dream-like phase of drunkenness, where he seemed to miss little in-between moments, like how something would get from point A to point B.

He stumbled to the sink and leaned over it, intent on looking in the mirror. He had to try hard to focus on his face though; he couldn't seem to get the whole picture. He thought he looked strange. His skin didn't seem right.

 _So, I'm not a virgin any more,_ he realized suddenly.

He decided to wash his hands. He reached for the faucet handle determinedly, but the movement was almost violent and the water jetted out on the highest setting. He couldn't bother to change it, though, so he washed his hands sloppily, spilling a good deal of soap in the process.

After that he thought he'd waited long enough. He pulled the door open and walked out, forgetting to care if anyone noticed. But if anyone saw, he left them behind as he made his way to the front of the bar where Angie was waiting.

"Here, I grabbed your coat for you." She handed it to him.

"Thanks," he said taking it. He didn't remember having removed it.

He followed her back outside, but the cold didn't bother him as much as before.

Angie turned to him. "So, um, I have to get back to my dorm, but, uh…" she started hesitantly. "That was—fun. Uh, no regrets, right?" She laughed a little.

"Right! Yeah, no regrets," he agreed quickly, nodding. "Um, okay, well, see you in class…" he added lamely.

"Right, right. Yeah, see you."

"Uh, thanks. Or I mean, well, you know, it was, a good time… um…"

"Haha, yeah. Night, Ludwig." She smiled and turned to go.

"Uh, night! Angie…" He turned the other way.

When he had reached the corner he realized he should have gone the same direction as Angie to get back to his dorm. He thought for a moment about where he was and figured he could take a longer route to avoid awkwardly running back into her.

The walk back to campus went quickly. It was a blur, the storefronts and restaurants going by him as his legs loped forward of their own accord. He noted that he didn't feel especially different, being a not-virgin.

_I fucked a girl. I fucked a girl in a bar bathroom. In her ass. That's how I lost it. But it was a girl, not a guy. That's good, right? Maybe I am straight, maybe I'm normal. Maybe I could be a player who gets all the girls and hooks up with a different one every weekend._

_...But I was thinking of Gilbert._ Anger boiled in his gut at the thought. Anger at himself. _Fucking fuck fuck you idiot, you perv—_

He saw he had reached the middle of campus, and suddenly he didn't feel like going back to his dorm. _Matt's probably there. And Gilbert will be there too, fucking his brains out instead of mine. C'mon, I'm not a virgin anymore! You wouldn't be taking my innocence, Gil. Fuck you!_

"Fuck!" he yelled in frustration, trying to kick a small pebble on the sidewalk but missing by a mile.

He stared at the ground, panting. Suddenly acute pain gripped his core, and he doubled over with a sob, holding himself.

Gilbert hated him. Gilbert never wanted to see his face again. Ludwig would probably never speak to his brother again.

He found himself sitting on the ground, head in his hands, trying to hold in the tears and the pain, trying to squeeze it back, deep inside of him where he could keep it and pretend it never existed.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, or how many people might have walked by or seen him. But then a pair of feet came into view and stopped directly in front of him.

"Who is it?" The question sounded smug but tired, world-weary. The voice, though, made every muscle in Ludwig's body tense.

He looked up hesitantly at the laconic face looming over him. "What are you doing here?" he challenged. He hoped he didn't sound too drunk.

Francis rolled his eyes. "What kind of answer is that? I asked you, who are you crying over?"

"I'm not crying," Ludwig answered tersely.

"Oh really." Francis leaned close as if to inspect him, and Ludwig pulled back. "Looks like you are." Francis stood upright again. "Want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Hm. Girl? Guy?"

"Fuck off."

"Ah. Guy, then."

Ludwig remained silent.

After a moment Francis spoke again. "Looks like you need a hand." He offered one.

Ludwig looked away.

"Oh, come now, don't be like that. Just trying to be friendly. Maybe I could help you get your mind off this mystery man."

Ludwig hesitated. A strange sensation was constricting his chest, making his gut tingle. He couldn't decipher whether it was a good tingle or bad tingle, though, more akin to the swooping in his stomach when he saw a hot erotic picture or to the kind he got at viewing a gruesome injury.

He looked at the proffered hand. And then, simply because it was there and it was something to do other than sit there on the ground longer, he took it.

Francis hauled him to his feet and he staggered to regain his balance. Francis patted his shoulder heartily. "Good man. Why don't you come over to my place?" Francis tossed his hair slightly, keeping his hand firmly on Ludwig's shoulder, almost as if he was ready to grasp his neck.

Ludwig processed the suggestion. _Come over. Come over… Why shouldn't I?_ He felt empty. _Gilbert won't have me. I'm no better than that anyway—just sleeping around. So what if I'm his slut? It really doesn't matter, does it._

So he agreed. _Because that's what sluts do._

Francis smirked. "Perfect."

He turned, expecting Ludwig to follow. Ludwig thought that was slightly arrogant, assuming he would just trot behind like a dog—but Ludwig did it. Because he didn't deserve better.

Ludwig was still slightly drunker than he had thought. He didn't really notice where they were walking, just keeping close behind Francis and wondering vaguely why he didn't just turn around and leave. But it was easier to follow.

And then, they were at the door to one of the upperclassmen dorms he had never been inside of. Francis swiped them in and took him down a hallway to a courtyard area with multiple rooms facing onto it. He unlocked one of these doors and let Ludwig inside.

"Up the stairs," he said, and Ludwig noticed the staircase to his right. He went up, not knowing exactly how his feet managed the steps, and came out into a nice seating area next to a kitchen.

"That's Toni's room there," said Francis, pointing. "I'm over here." He led him into a spacious single on the left.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," he offered graciously.

Ludwig shifted nervously. What was he supposed to do? This man, who had done things to him he'd prefer to forget, was acting as if everything were normal, as if it had never happened. Perhaps that's what he ought to do too, then: act as if it had never happened. That was what he wanted, wasn't it?

He decided on sitting in a chair, very deliberately so as not to appear too drunk.

"Need anything? A drink?" Francis asked, still standing.

"Ah, no, thanks."

"Alright then." Francis settled on the bed. He looked at Ludwig. Ludwig tried to look everywhere but at him.

"Why did you come with me?" he asked, his subtly accented voice smooth as silk.

Ludwig looked down. He had no answer. In fact, he wondered the same thing.

Finally, he shrugged.

Francis chuckled, making Ludwig look up. "I know why. It's because you're drawn to me. Admit it, you always have been."

Ludwig felt much too warm. He squirmed under the other man's piercing gaze.

"You wanted it, that night. Don't lie to yourself, Ludwig. It's not a crime to want another man. Stop feeling so guilty about it."

Something clenched in Ludwig's gut. Was that true? Was he simply trying to turn himself into a victim, to mask what had really happened? His head reeled in confusion.

"Why are you sitting all the way over there? Come a little closer."

Ludwig's breathing was shallow. He looked at Francis, sitting on the side of his bed propped up casually with his hands, alluring smile on his face.

Ludwig got unsteadily to his feet. He took the few steps needed to cross the room and stood uncertainly before the seated man.

Francis looked up at him through his long lashes. "Closer," he murmered.

Ludwig swayed dangerously. The room seemed to spin as he stepped towards Francis, and his stomach flipped at their uncomfortable proximity.

Francis hooked his fingers through the belt loops of Ludwig's jeans and pulled his hips forward. His face hovered near his groin.

"Is this what you want?" he breathed heavily. His nose grazed Ludwig's crotch and a thrill shot through Ludwig's stomach, more from fear than want. His thighs and chest ached. His body wanted to recoil from Francis' touch, and yet he derived some inexplicable, throat-clenching, terrifying, exhilarating adrenaline rush from forcing himself to remain in contact. It was horrifying, but he couldn't pull away.

"Hmm? Or maybe…" Francis tugged on Ludwig's arm and he toppled easily, hitting the floor hard with his knees. He realized with a jolt that Francis' warm thighs were on either side of him, seeming to trap him in. Tingles surged over his scalp and down to his shoulders.

Francis' hand settled on the back of Ludwig's head, threading through his hair and pulling him forward. He settled back on his other arm and looked down expectantly at the paralyzed boy between his legs.

He raised his eyebrows. "You know what to do," he said smugly.

Ludwig was frozen. His mouth was dry. His head felt light. But still there was the slight pressure of Francis' hand, goading him forward.

Slowly, trembling, Ludwig brought his hands up to the waistline of Francis' jeans. Somehow he managed to unbutton and unzip them. His face burned with humiliation.

With the fly parted he could see a slight bulge in the red underwear beneath. He swallowed thickly, and then, helplessly, pulled down the elastic band to reveal Francis' cock.

The member seemed to bounce out a little as it was freed of its confines, pointing its tip towards Ludwig's face almost purposefully. The humid smell of private parts filled his nostrils and for a moment he couldn't breathe.

But the hand was still pushing gently, just enough to guide his lips to the head of the cock. Ludwig hesitated for a moment, examining the genitals in front of him. This was Francis' penis, the one he had been forced to swallow before. Hot shame flooded through him at the thought. He had let this organ into his body before, and now he would do it again, opening for it like some whore. That's what Francis had called him, wasn't it? A whore.

He was suddenly acutely aware of the shame of being a man and a whore, a male slut. He was made to penetrate women, biologically speaking, and yet he opened himself like a woman for other men. Could he really even call himself a man?

Defeated, he reached up and wrapped his hand around the hot, half-hard shaft, lifting it to his mouth. Closing his eyes, he sealed his lips around the tip, gently sucking at the smooth skin.

The taste wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't disgusting either. It was just there, and Ludwig tried not to notice it as he hesitantly took the rest of the head into his mouth, moving his tongue half-heartedly along the underside and slit.

Francis grunted quietly. "Deeper," he breathed, pushing Ludwig's head forward.

Ludwig's eyes watered as he took more of the cock in, until he felt that his mouth was as full as it could be, full of hard, hot flesh. He started to move tentatively in and out, trying not to make himself gag.

"No hands. Look at me." Francis' voice was gravelly as he swatted his hands away from the base of his shaft. Ludwig reluctantly raised his eyes to his face as he continued to move in, out, creating a slight suction.

Francis' face was relaxed, but his eyes were still piercing as he watched the boy sucking him off. "Yeah, that's right…" he murmured, guiding his head a little more quickly. Then, suddenly, he pushed Ludwig's head down hard, forcing his cock further into his mouth until he felt the back of his throat.

Ludwig jerked and choked around the engorged organ in his mouth. For a moment he was certain he would throw up, but then Francis loosened his grip and he was able to pull away, coughing.

All of a sudden there were footsteps on the stairs. It took Ludwig a moment to process this, but when he did, he looked up at the bedroom door in horror. Francis hadn't closed it all the way, and Ludwig had assumed they were alone.

And then there was a form visible through the doorway. "Hey Francis, you want to—" Antonio stopped short as he opened the door wider.

Francis looked at him crossly. "Can't you see I'm a little busy here?"

Ludwig tried to hide his face from Antonio's surprised gaze. The last thing he needed was for him to see him like this, too. _Please, Lord, let me find a hole to crawl into and die._

Antonio's face fell. "What… what's going on here?"

"I'm getting head, that's what. You ought to be familiar with the concept. Now, would you kindly give us some privacy? Unless, of course, you prefer to watch, or join in…"

Antonio shifted uncomfortably. "N-no, I…" His eyes flitted nervously between the figure huddled on the floor and the one leaning easily on the bed. He swallowed. "S-sorry," he said almost fearfully, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Antonio stood for a moment in the middle of the small living room in indecision. This didn't sit right with him. Perhaps, if he alerted Gilbert, then his friend would forgive him. But Francis would be angry.

He remembered the look of shame and fear on Ludwig's face as he practically cowered away. He bit his lip.

_Gilbert deserves to know._

Antonio pulled out his cell phone, and sent a text.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Well, Ludwig and Gilbert are going to be in the same room at the same time finally...


	22. Chapter 17, Part 1

"Oh, that's good," Francis purred, his hand clenched in Ludwig's hair as he held his face against his groin.

Ludwig's jaw ached. He was sure his lips were about to split apart at the corners, they were stretched so wide. He could barely breathe, nose pressed into wiry pubes that scratched at his upper lip.

Something tickled in his throat and he convulsed, pulling back to hack and splutter, a thick rope of spit trailing from his mouth to Francis' cock.

"C'mon, c'mon, take it in," mumbled Francis, pulling Ludwig's head back towards his crotch.

Ludwig gasped for air before the seeping head pushed between his lips again.

"Suck. Harder. Use your tongue," Francis rasped.

Ludwig tried to comply, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. It occurred to him suddenly that maybe he was simply trying to punish himself.

Francis began to rock his hips, thrusting his shaft further into Ludwig's mouth. His hands came up to grip Ludwig's hair, holding his head in place as he drove in and out a little faster, harder.

Ludwig cringed slightly at the force and depth of the thrusts, but was powerless to move. He struggled to breathe through his nose as Francis went on, exhales coming in short little puffs now. He was close.

"Yeah, you like that, little slut? Fffuck…" His voice was strained. "Oo yeah, oo yeah I'm gonna come—" Suddenly Francis withdrew, one hand going to grip his cock as the other held Ludwig's head, tilting it back.

Before Ludwig knew what was happening, a hot splurt of liquid splashed onto his face, then another, and another. A drop got in his eye, stinging terribly.

He knelt there, eyes squeezed shut, gasping for air as the milky liquid marked warm, tickling trails down his cheeks and around his nose. Then he felt long fingers catching the thick droplets and swiping the wetness off his skin. A finger touched his lip.

"Lick it off," Francis whispered. Ludwig opened trembling lips to take the digit into his mouth and suck it clean.

Francis scooped the rest of the semen off his face and into his mouth in a similar manner. It was pungent, salty and bitter. But Ludwig tried not to think about it as he swallowed it down.

He wiped his eyes and opened them tentatively to see Francis smirking down at him.

"Stand up."

Ludwig obeyed, face burning.

"Undress."

His stomach sank.

Francis chuckled. "Don't worry, you'll like it. I can make this very pleasurable for you."

Ludwig hesitated. He looked down, but could still feel Francis' eyes on him, burning him. He didn't see how he could refuse, after eating this man's spunk. Slowly, with shaking hands, he pulled off his shirt. He let it drop to the floor and his hands settled on the waist of his pants. He hesitated again, then slowly unbuttoned and unzipped them. Hot tingles surged over his exposed skin as he dragged his jeans down. Kicking off his shoes and socks, he stepped out of them.

He couldn't meet Francis' eyes. He felt much too vulnerable in only his boxers, even if the remaining haze of alcohol prevented him from feeling the full indignity of his situation.

"Good. Come here."

Ludwig stepped forward and Francis pulled him down to the bed. He felt malleable under his hands and against the soft, cool sheets, allowing his body to be lain out on his stomach. He felt his boxers being pulled away and a strange, keen fear and longing gripped his belly. He closed his eyes and the bed seemed to spin under him.

He felt Francis' hands kneading into his ass and his breath caught in his throat. He wondered vaguely if they were about to have sex, and if he really cared or not. He didn't actually, actively want to have sex with Francis, he realized, but at this point the sensations flooding his incapacitated body outweighed any other reasoning.

And then he felt something, hot, wet, wonderful, on the sensitive skin near his hole. He gasped as Francis' tongue flicked out against the little ring of muscle. When his whole mouth closed around his entrance and sucked, hard, Ludwig came undone completely, crying out and thrashing against the sheets.

Francis continued to suckle and tongue at his entrance as Ludwig convulsed and whimpered his terrible, shameful pleasure.

Francis pulled back with the squelch of suction and a particularly sharp exclamation from Ludwig. "Oh, look at you, rutting into my face for more. I was right, you're such a dirty little whore, such a little cock-slut…" He dug his fingers back into Ludwig's ass cheeks and pulled them apart, flicking his tongue over his quivering entrance.

Ludwig realized in humiliation that he had lifted his hips off the bed to push back against Francis' face. He tried desperately to keep his sounds to himself, but that warmth, that wetness, that wriggling muscle against his asshole, poking inside, was too much. His cock ached with its own weight.

"Mm, if you like my tongue this much, I bet you'd like something else even better," murmured Francis.

Ludwig's chest tightened. This was it. He was going to put it in him and fuck him like the whore he was. His hands clung to the sheets in anticipation and dread.

Francis shifted on the bed behind him, pulling his hips up higher. Ludwig could feel his weight settle against his backside.

And then, before either of them could register the approaching footsteps, the door flung open.

Ludwig tried to turn his head to see, but couldn't in his position. But it was impossible to miss the rage-filled voice.

"Get. Your. _Filthy_ hands OFF OF MY BROTHER!"

Francis drew back slightly and Ludwig collapsed to the mattress, heart pounding.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Francis glared at his former friend.

"A little birdie told me you were taking advantage of my brother. _Again_ ," Gilbert spat.

"Sorry to disappoint, Gilbert, but this is consensual," retorted Francis archly. "If you'd only come a moment sooner, you could have heard the sweet sounds your baby brother was making. That I was making him make."

Ludwig sat up, tears of mortification pricking at his eyes. He drew his legs up in front of him, desperate for cover. He couldn't look at his brother.

"…Ludwig?" Gilbert sounded half-strangled, strained with confusion, anger, concern.

"I think you should go so we can finish what you've interrupted," shot Francis.

Still Ludwig didn't meet his brother's eyes. After everything, all that had happened between them, this had to be the moment he saw him again. For Gilbert to see him like this, now, just proving that his little brother was a disgraceful, depraved, sex-crazed, undiscriminating slut—

It was too much. Ludwig wished he was clothed, so he could just run out the door, run away like he always did, like the coward he was. But he wasn't—he was very, very naked—and so he stood shakily, shamefully, and gathered his clothing. Without looking at either of the two men, he began to dress himself, hands shaking in nervous irritation.

"Ludwig?" Gilbert asked again.

"I don't need you to come saving me," Ludwig spat, his voice full of venom he didn't know he possessed. He wasn't sure why he felt so angry.

A pang went through Gilbert's heart. So his brother really did hate him. He stood, hurt and frustrated and at a loss for words, feeling slightly embarrassed for the first time at what he had walked in on.

"You see? He's a big boy now, Gilbert," sang Francis.

"Shut up," Ludwig growled dangerously, feeling suddenly bolder with his clothes back on. What did Francis know about any of this?

Francis blinked and fell silent.

Ludwig shoved his feet into his shoes, ears burning with an embarrassment that only fueled his anger. He went quickly to the door, mouth set in a grim line, refusing to look into his brother's face as he passed.

"Hey, wait—" called Francis from the bed.

"Ludwig—" Gilbert reached for his arm, but Ludwig shook away his hand like flinging water off his fingers.

Gilbert drew back as if scorched, but a moment later he was right behind him again as Ludwig made for the stairs.

Ludwig could hear Francis and Antonio's voices behind him. Francis started to shout at his roommate as Ludwig left the suite, but he didn't catch what they were saying, mind too thick with the fog of drink and indignant anger.

" _Ludwig—_ " Gilbert reached for his arm again, turning him around as the door closed behind them.

In that moment, Ludwig couldn't stand the sight of Gilbert, couldn't stand Gilbert's touch, couldn't stand how much he himself had fucked things up, and that now Gilbert knew it too. He tried to jerk away, but Gilbert kept his hold on him.

"Don't touch me!"

"What was going on in there?!" Gilbert demanded, gripping his arm tighter.

"That's none of your fucking business, is it? Why are you even here? I was fine—I was just fine! And what the fuck do you care, huh?!"

"Jesus Christ, pull yourself together!"

"I am pulled together! I am fucking pulled together, alright? Get the _fuck_ off my back!" He shoved on Gilbert's shoulder, trying to pull away.

"Why the fuck were you with _him?_ " Gilbert shouted, shoving back.

"I said get _off_ of me!" And he pushed Gilbert, hard.

Ludwig barely had time to register the surprised fury on Gilbert's face as he regained his balance before he felt his hands shoving his own chest. It was forceful, but not so forceful that Ludwig wouldn't usually have been able to remain on his feet. He was not currently in his usual state, however, and before he knew what was happening the world spun and his face connected with the pavement, unable to effectively stop his fall with his hands.

For a moment, there was just the cold shock of impact, and the dull ache in his gut that promised far greater pain to come. And then, with a rush in his ears, his nose was on fire. He felt wetness on his fingers as he clutched it.

There were hands on his shoulders. He opened his eyes. He hadn't realized he'd closed them in the first place.

"Ludwig… Ludwig, oh god Ludwig…" Gilbert was saying softly, frantically.

Ludwig blinked hard and lifted himself to his hands and knees, watching dizzily as blood spotted the ground beneath him. Gilbert hauled him up to sit on a step.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry Lud," Gilbert kept repeating, fussing over his injury. "I didn't mean to, really I swear, oh my god I'm so sorry I don't know what I was thinking I'm so sorry, Ludwig…" He looked near tears.

"Iss… iss okay," winced Ludwig nasally as he tilted his head back, holding his nose in pain. Actually, the impact seemed to have worked like a shock of cold water to his face. Suddenly he felt much more alerted to his surroundings, though that also served to make the pain more acute.

Ludwig allowed his brother to hold his head, tilting it this way and that to examine him, worry etched into his face. For a moment, it was just like old times, when they were little and Gilbert would teach him some crazy new game he'd made up, in which Ludwig would more often than not end up getting scraped or bruised, sending Gilbert into his contrite, overly-protective older-brother mode, fretting over him and apologizing endlessly and promising next time he'd make sure it was safe. It was familiar, the feeling of his warm, soft hands on his face and his soothing, repentant voice in his ears, and Ludwig let his guard down, enjoying the care and attention as much as his throbbing nose would allow.

But only for a moment. Because then Ludwig remembered why his nose hurt, why Gilbert had punched him, why they had been arguing, and why he couldn't possibly allow his brother to see him right then. He pulled away.

Gilbert's face scrunched up with emotion.

"I'n fine," Ludwig asserted sullenly. He stood, his head reeling slightly.

"Where are you going?" Gilbert sounded almost panicked. "You're not fine! You could have just broken your nose!" He jumped up and turned his brother back towards him. "Let me—let me help you get cleaned up, at least." He sounded almost pleading.

Ludwig hesitated a moment, one hand still cupping his nose to catch the warm trickle of fluid. Why was Gilbert being so nice to him? Surely, he was only acting out of some vestigial brotherly duty, not any true concern, and soon enough the sentiment would fade into resentment.

Ludwig sighed. He might as well accept the offer, as long as he didn't expect anything more from his brother afterwards. He would let him make up for the injury, and then he would leave Gilbert alone.

"…Fine," he conceded.

The tension seemed to leave Gilbert the tiniest bit at that. He let go of his brother. "Okay then, let's get you to my place."

They walked awkwardly side-by-side, unsure of how much space to keep between them. Gilbert seemed to want to gravitate towards Ludwig, make sure he was okay, but he would always pull back, restraining himself from reaching out to him. Ludwig, for his part, would be lying if he said he didn't want to be close to Gilbert, but he too was hyper-aware of maintaining a proper distance, not wanting to make his brother uncomfortable.

They made their way down the near-empty streets to Gilbert's house without a word. Several times, Ludwig wished Gilbert would break the silence. Several times, Gilbert wanted to break the silence, but didn't know what to say.

Finally, they reached Gilbert's old American Foursquare. Wordlessly, Gilbert led him to his room and into the bathroom. He removed Ludwig's hand from his face and looked closely at his nose.

"Looks like it's stopped bleeding. How's it feel?"

"Nn, kina huhts. Bedduh, though."

Gilbert filled a cup with water and took the Tylenol from the cabinet, handing him one. Ludwig swallowed it gratefully.

He was surprised by what Gilbert did next, though. His brother took a towel and dampened it, then took hold of his hand and started wiping the blood from it. Ludwig let him, though he could have easily washed his hands himself. There was something nice, safe, about just standing there being cleaned by his older brother. He felt so taken care of.

Gilbert rinsed the towel and moved to Ludwig's face, carefully holding him in place with one hand while gently, gently dabbing around his nose with the other. The cloth felt nice against his skin, therapeutic almost, but not as nice as Gilbert's fingers touching his cheek and jaw to steady him.

It struck Ludwig how different this hold was from Francis' commanding one. He didn't mind this vulnerability in front of his brother. In fact, he craved it.

Ludwig watched Gilbert's eyes, shining with concern as he worked. He savored the sweet touch of his brother's fingertips, the closeness of their faces and bodies. Quite suddenly, he began to cry.

Gilbert looked at him, alarmed. "Did I hurt you?"

Ludwig shook his head no, quaking with his silent sobs. It was stupid of him, to cry now, he knew. It was the last thing he needed Gilbert to see, to have to deal with, after everything. He mentally berated himself, but still he couldn't help the tears. He wasn't sure exactly where they came from. He just felt so exhausted.

"Oh Luwdig, Ludwig…" Gilbert murmured, drawing him into his arms.

He held him for a long time, squeezing him close and rubbing his back, letting his little brother cry himself dry.

"Wh-why d-did I do th-those things?" Ludwig sobbed into his shoulder.

Gilbert tried to soothe him. "What things? What did you do?" he asked sympathetically, though he dreaded the answer.

"I—I—screwed a girl, in a bar bathroom, and I—I—F-Francis…" He broke down there, unable to continue.

He felt Gilbert's arms tense around him, and waited, shamed, for his reply.

Gilbert was silent for a long moment. Then, voice small and tight with emotion, he asked, "Can you ever forgive me?" As if those things had been his fault.

Ludwig was bewildered. "For… for what?"

"I… I should have been there for you Lud." An unbearable pain gripped Gilbert's gut, realizing what his little brother must have been through, the things he had done, mistakes made, because of an emotional turmoil Gilbert was responsible for.

Ludwig didn't know what to say to that. He was astonished, but not quite willing to believe that the blame didn't lie solely with himself.

Gilbert rocked his brother in his arms gently. "I'm sorry. It'll be okay, it's gonna be okay," he whispered, as much to himself as to Luwdig.

They embraced for another minute, silent save their combined sniffling and shaky breaths. Eventually those too quieted.

Gilbert pulled away to look at Ludwig with red-rimmed eyes. He tried to smile, but it didn't quite work. "Let me get some ice for that," he mumbled stuffily, indicating his nose. Ludwig had almost forgotten about it, but he nodded.

When Gilbert left, Ludwig realized suddenly how badly he needed to pee. He quickly relieved himself, then went to sit on Gilbert's bed.

He waited, gingerly touching his nose. It was starting to hurt much less. He wondered vaguely how much the alcohol was still affecting his perception. How long ago had those drinks been, anyway? It felt like a lifetime.

He looked around the room, head swirling with doubts. He was still certain that Gilbert's kindness couldn't possibly last. Did he just not see, not understand, what Ludwig had done? What he still wanted to do? He gazed dejectedly at the floor. He made himself sick.

Gilbert returned, ice pack in hand, eyes flitting nervously to his brother, as if to make sure he really was still there and hadn't run off. He perched next to him on the bed and cautiously handed him the ice pack wrapped in a paper towel. "Here."

Ludwig took it and held it to his nose, keeping his eyes down. He was very aware of how close Gilbert was sitting to him, close enough to smell his sweet-musky smell. He wished he would lean in just a little more, so he could feel his brother's warmth and solidness against him.

He blinked several times, then took a deep breath and asked, "Do you still love me?" His voice became high with the effort of keeping it under control and he had to swallow down a sob. He waited, tense, not making eye contact.

But he didn't have to wait long. Gilbert's response was immediate. "Of course. Ludwig, of course I love you. Look at me. Look at me."

His head had never felt so heavy as he turned it to meet Gilbert's eyes.

"Ludwig, I love you with all my heart. And I always will."

Gilbert didn't usually say things like that. Gilbert didn't usually sound so serious. And Gilbert didn't usually look into his eyes and hold them with such compassion and understanding, taking his breath away and making him feel so, so vulnerable and yet so, so encompassed with warmth and love.

Ludwig had to look away. The corner of his mouth twitched as he attempted a smile. "When did you get so cheesy?" he asked, voice still breathy and quavering.

Gilbert didn't answer, but only pulled his brother toward him to lean Ludwig's head against his shoulder.

Ludwig's lip trembled. After a moment, he mumbled, "You shouldn't."

Gilbert pulled back to look at him. "What?"

"Y-you shouldn't love me," Ludwig stated with miserable conviction.

Gilbert looked aghast. "Don't _say_ that," he stated firmly.

"But it's t-true. You don't know, y-you don't understand…"

Gilbert's face screwed up in pain. "Yes, yes I do. I—I understand that I haven't been the brother I should be. I understand that I've made mistakes. I—God, if anyone doesn't deserve to be loved it's me! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I don't want you to feel like this Lud, I just want you to be happy…" He looked at him with a helpless expression. "I wish I knew what to do," he finally said, defeated.

A keen longing filled Ludwig. He knew he shouldn't say it, but he had to. "You do," he practically whispered, every word a burden. "You do know what to do. You could make me happy…"

It took Gilbert a moment to understand. But when he did he immediately stiffened. "No," he choked. "No, Ludwig, I can't." He spoke slowly, deliberately. "We can't. It's for the better, believe me. It'll work out in the end, we'll get past this—"

"No!" It came out as a wretched groan. Ludwig felt such a fierce desire and agonizing pain in his gut and chest. He felt that he was hanging on the edge of a cliff, and only Gilbert could save him from falling. He didn't know what lay below, but he didn't want to know. He was frightened of whatever was down there. He couldn't stand the possibility of not having Gilbert.

"You don't understand," Ludwig moaned. "I can't, I c-can't… M-maybe you can forget about this someday, maybe you can move on—but, for m-me… it'll—it'll never leave—I'll never—I'll always—always kn-know, this, this _shame_ …" His breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled to control his shaking.

Gilbert watched in horror. He had never, in his life, seen someone in such emotional torture. And this was the person he cared about most in his entire world. His little baby brother, whom he was supposed to protect and look after. He was supposed to be this boy's hero and savior, and yet now, when Ludwig needed him most, he was powerless. Utterly powerless.

And so he sat, lost and scared, because he did not know what to do. He truly was a failure of a big brother, because he could do absolutely nothing to help Ludwig.

"Ludwig, Ludwig," he whispered helplessly. He felt terrible, not knowing what to say. It was like being swept out to sea, at the mercy of the currents, with nothing to hold on to. He watched his little brother cry with mounting dismay.

Ludwig was folded over, clutching himself, mouth open but no sound coming out except periodic gasps. He felt pathetic, practically repeating the scene of that morning—had it really only been that morning?—but he was determined not to let it repeat exactly. He would not try to touch or kiss Gilbert. He would not frighten and violate his brother in that way again. And he would not run away.

He felt a hand come to rest lightly, tentatively, on his shoulder.

"Ludwig? Ludwig?" Gilbert's voice was so small.

Ludwig swallowed and tried desperately to calm himself.

"Lud—why don't we, just, get some sleep. You're tired. Things'll—things'll look better in the morning, I promise. How—how does that sound?"

Blankly, Ludwig nodded. He did feel so, so tired, wrung out like a worn rag.

"Do you—do you wanna stay here tonight?"

Again, Ludwig nodded, more sheepishly. He was embarrassed, but there was hardly any point in denying that being close to his brother was what he needed.

"Okay." Gilbert slipped off the bed and went in the bathroom to take out his contacts.

Ludwig shakily began to strip down to his boxers like usual, but he felt uneasy. Should he ask for a t-shirt? Would Gilbert want to sleep with him bare-chested? In fact, would Gilbert even want to share a bed like they had so many times in the past?

Gilbert came back into the room and began rummaging in a drawer. "Still no clean boxers," he said by way of explanation as he pulled out a pair of sweatpants. He also pulled out a tank top, Ludwig noted. Gilbert never slept in a tank top.

Ludwig dropped his eyes, accepting that his brother would want to cover himself more than usual. He made a point of turning around as Gilbert changed.

Gilbert came over to the bed. "So… um, what would be best for you, Lud?" he asked cautiously. "You can use the bed, but, do you want me to sleep with you? Or, um, I can sleep on the floor if you prefer… I just, want you to be comfortable."

"N-no, um, I, I'd like together, if—if you're okay with that." He looked down, blushing. He felt like a little boy crawling into his older brother's bed because of a nightmare, as he hadn't done in over a decade. But he needed to be physically close to Gilbert. He couldn't stand the thought of not having his solid, comforting warmth next to him where he could feel it.

"Yeah, okay," agreed Gilbert, clearly trying to show his brother how absolutely fine everything supposedly was.

Ludwig crawled in under the covers and Gilbert followed, switching off the lamp next to his bed.

They lay side by side for a moment in the silent darkness. Ludwig wished his brother would put his arms around him, but he knew that was probably too much to ask for. He was already more than lucky to have Gilbert at his side.

Then Gilbert spoke. "It's gonna be okay, Lud. I promise. We're not gonna be any less close because of this."

Ludwig knew his brother couldn't see him in the dark, but he nodded his head, even though he remained doubtful.

"…Night, Lud."

"…Night."

Ludwig closed his eyes, trying his best to absorb the warmth from the body next to him and find sweet relief, however temporary, in sleep.

Gilbert's eyes, however, remained opened. He stared into the blackness above him, mind churning. He had had to sound confident for Ludwig's sake, but he did not feel confident. Far from it.

He thought over all his brother had said, all the pain he was feeling. Gilbert's heart sunk even further when he remembered what Ludwig had said about screwing a girl in a bar and hooking up with Francis. It killed Gilbert not to know exactly what had happened, as his imagination filled in all the worst possible details. The last thing he had wanted was to drive Ludwig to seeking carnal pleasures in the arms of a near-stranger or his abuser. Those had probably been high-risk situations, too. And there would be consequences, especially emotional ones, that Ludwig would have to face.

Gilbert felt sick with guilt. He wanted desperately to hug the body next to him, to try to make it better. But he knew there was nothing that could really make it better, and he had to be sure to touch his brother only the most appropriate amount, so as not to make things more difficult for Ludwig.

But the urge to hold his brother was strong. He wanted Ludwig close to him, and didn't want to let him go. He knew how fragile Ludwig was right now.

It suddenly struck Gilbert how fragile he himself was, too. He ran back over his day in his mind, realizing just how alone he was. Matthew, Liz, Roderich, even kind, harmless Bella: he'd managed to piss them all off, and they hadn't hesitated in revealing just what they really thought of him. He was a disappointment of a friend, a disappointment of a boyfriend.

And now, worst of all, a disappointment of a brother. He couldn't stand the thought of Ludwig leaving him like the other's had. He needed Ludwig. He needed to keep at least his little brother, his last and most vital lifeline.

But even lying side by side on the bed, he felt so alone. Ludwig had seemed in such utter despair. It was as if he had wrapped himself in a cocoon of misery, and Gilbert simply could not penetrate it.

There was a pain, a deep ache, in Gilbert's chest as he turned towards his brother. He was sure Ludwig was asleep by now, and so he dared to reach his hand gingerly over Ludwig's still form to his shoulder, resting it there lightly. He rubbed the warm skin gently with his thumb for a moment, then moved to Ludwig's jaw, thinking just how precious this boy was. He brushed the backs of his fingers against his skin, just barely. Neither he nor Ludwig could grow much hair on that part of their face, and downy soft hairs still lined it. They made him seem even younger than he was for a moment.

Gilbert pictured the peaceful face, for he couldn't make it out in the darkness. This was his baby brother, his dear Bruderlein, whom he wanted nothing but happiness for. His dear, dear Bruderchen who, inexplicably, loved him so very much, far more than Gilbert deserved.

Gilbert paused, his finger resting on his brother's cheek. That was right, he didn't deserve this adoring brother. Ludwig deserved far better than him. Suddenly, he felt dirty touching him. Selfish. He drew his hand back quickly and sunk back to the mattress, dejected.

"You can't even bear to touch me." Ludwig's voice came as a surprise in the dark room. It was calm, simply stating a fact.

Gilbert blinked in surprise. "D-did I wake you?"

"No."

Gilbert's face was hot with embarrassment. "It—it's not like that, Lud, I—"

"It's okay. I can't blame you for not wanting to touch a brother with incestuous wishes." His voice sounded dead. It scared Gilbert.

"No, Lud, I just—"

"I think I should go," said Ludwig quietly, sitting up.

"Wait!" Gilbert shot up, holding his brother back. No, no, he couldn't let him go, he couldn't lose him too—

"No, I should, I should just leave you alone." His voice was growing thicker with distress. "I'm sorry, Gilbert, I shouldn't have stayed—"

"Ludwig don't—"

"Let go of me, I can't, I can't see you—"

"No, what are you saying?!"

Ludwig was holding back tears now. "I can't see you anymore Gilbert, I can't do this to you—"

"NO!" Ludwig was slipping out of his arms, struggling to get away. Gilbert grabbed him and pulled him back, close to his chest, using all his strength to restrain his larger younger brother. There was a frantic scrabbling of hands, half-choked sobs, and the press of straining muscles and warm skin in the darkness.

Gilbert had to keep him there, had to make him see, had to, had to by any means. Terrible hot panic was creeping up his throat as he grappled with his brother. He thrust all his weight against him, gaining the advantage for a second. Ludwig wriggled half-heartedly in Gilbert's grasp, tears escaping down his cheeks.

Many times after in Gilbert's life, he would remember back to that moment, and wonder why he said what he said next. Many times in his life, he would regret it.

" _Kiss me._ "

It was a desperate, hoarse whisper that hung in the thick air between them. Ludwig froze.

"…What?" he breathed, not daring to believe he had heard right.

"Y-you heard me, _kiss_ me," Gilbert repeated, voice shaking.

He waited, every nerve on edge. He felt much too hot, tingles crawling over his skin in that awful way they always did when he was afraid he had humiliated himself. He wasn't sure if it was the right thing to say. He wasn't sure if Ludwig would do it. He wasn't sure if it would work, if Ludwig would stay. And at the moment, Ludwig staying was all that mattered.

And then, suddenly, there was hot breath on his lips, followed swiftly by the incredible softness of another mouth pressing against his own.

Gilbert was paralyzed, shocked at the reality of it, the undeniable sensation of a kiss, and from his _Ludwig_ of all people.

His little brother. His little brother was _kissing_ him, not at all how brothers are meant to kiss, but how lovers kiss, with a barely restrained passion. The incredible wrongness of the situation struck him full force.

Gilbert's head was still reeling, heart in his throat, when the lips pulled away abruptly.

"Gilbert, I can't," panted Ludwig.

Irrational panic clutched Gilbert's stomach, a panic that he had indeed done the wrong thing, possibly scandalized his little brother, would scare him away. A part of him knew he ought to be thankful, because someone needed to say those words, but somehow that reasonable part of his mind was drowned out by the mortified, panic-stricken part. He knew he had crossed a line, but backtracking now was not an option.

"I can't, not if you don't want it too," Ludwig went on in a pained voice.

"I never said to stop." It came out as almost a growl.

"You—you're just doing it out of pity—"

"I thought this was what you wanted!" Gilbert nearly shouted, at the end of his rope. "Just, shut up and kiss me goddammit!"

Immediately, he regretted it. Getting angry at Ludwig for a situation he hadn't caused would help nothing. And now he had upset his brother even more.

Gilbert was glad it was dark, because he didn't think he could have born to see Ludwig's face at that moment. _Oh god oh god you're so_ stupid! _This is all your fault!_ he berated himself.

He could barely make out Ludwig's hitching breath and knew he was holding back tears. Ludwig could never stand Gilbert being angry at him.

"I… I'm sorry, Lud," whispered Gilbert. "I, I didn't mean—I just, I'm nervous, I guess." He attempted a small laugh that died in his throat.

Ludwig still hadn't moved. He was sniffling.

Gilbert moved forward to wrap his arms around his brother, pulling him into a tight embrace. He wanted to tell him _it's okay_ and _I'm so sorry_ , and hoped the gesture would say it for him.

Ludwig allowed himself to be held for several long moments. He was shaken, but his brother's warmth was comforting. He rested his cheek against Gilbert's soft hair. Gilbert felt Ludwig starting to relax, and was flooded with relief.

But then, the atmosphere shifted. The room was silent save for their breaths. It was as if they were both waiting for something, just holding each other and waiting.

It was an infinitesimal change; Ludwig moved his head barely an inch, but suddenly Gilbert could feel his breath on his cheek. Slowly, Ludwig turned his face towards his brother, and Gilbert realized it was a tentative probe, a question.

And then their foreheads were touching, mouths and cheeks a hair's breadth apart. Ludwig's nose brushed his.

When their lips met, just barely, and Gilbert did not back away, Ludwig had his answer. He felt an electric jolt run through his whole body at the warm touch, heart thumping wildly and threatening to escape his chest.

At first Gilbert stayed still, letting his brother's lips work gently against his own as he concentrated, listening to his body. He wondered if he could really do this, if he could kiss his little brother without completely freaking out. He felt as if he were testing himself.

Ludwig's lips were pleasantly soft, he realized. He knew if he didn't respond, though, that Ludwig would probably stop again, ashamed, and then he would leave. And so, slowly, he opened his mouth ever so slightly to return the kiss.

When Gilbert's hot, moist mouth began moving against his own, fireworks went off in Ludwig's mind. Finally, finally his big brother was kissing him—truly kissing him, not in some drunken or drugged up state, and not because Ludwig was forcing him. He was ecstatic, daring to flick his tongue over those tempting lips, begging for more and shivering with excitement.

Gilbert felt as though he was outside his body, controlling it merely as one controls a marionette. It was from a distance that he realized he was being slowly pushed down onto the bed, and it was from a distance that he heard the short, involuntary groan, halfway between repulsion and terrifying need, escape his own throat when Ludwig's tongue finally ventured inside his mouth.

And yet he was all too present in the kiss itself. Though his mind was disconnected from his actions, Gilbert somehow felt with incredible intensity every press of Ludwig's lips, the grazing of his teeth, the sliding of his tongue.

The knowledge that it was his brother's tongue inside his mouth, writhing with his own, made him want to spit it back out, scream. And yet his body acted on its own. For some reason he tolerated this physical rebellion, letting his tongue cautiously answer Ludwig' prodding, letting their mouths meld together, such molten heat and wetness, warm flesh pliable beneath his hands strong body receptive, wanting, wanting _him_ , wanting Gilbert, and god it felt so good to be wanted so entirely—

They pulled apart, gasping for air. Gilbert hadn't realized it, but he was now splayed on his back with his brother on top of him. He caught his breath, tingling with fear.

Suddenly bright light from his lamp flooded into the room, making Gilbert clamp his eyes shut. When he squinted them open, he saw Ludwig's hand on the switch. But the sight of the position they had gotten themselves into was too real for him, too obscene.

"Keep it off!" His hand shot out and flicked the switch off again.

Before Gilbert could breathe a sigh of relief, the light came back on. He glanced at his little brother in surprise. There was a determined look on Ludwig's face.

"I want to see you," he said quietly.

Gilbert gazed at his brother in quiet dismay, lips pursed. He couldn't do this. Not if he could see what it was he was doing. In the cover of darkness at least he could almost pretend he was just dreaming.

"I can't. Not with the light on," he whispered gravely, a hard look in his eyes, begging Ludwig to understand.

There was a beat, and then Ludwig's eyes widened, first in comprehension, then in fear and anticipation.

It was the last thing Gilbert saw before he flicked the switch off again, plunging them both into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next part: What happens when the lights go off...
> 
> Next chapter: Aftermath.


	23. Chapter 17, Part 2

There was a moment in which their breaths hung in the dark air between them. Everything was completely still. Ludwig was even sure his heart stopped beating for a second.

And then he felt the warm body beneath him shift, ever so slightly. Gilbert's hands came up to rest on his back, though it felt like he was barely touching him, as though he had gotten something sticky all over his fingers and was trying not to get any on Ludwig.

Ludwig's stomach did a flip at the slight contact against the bare skin of his back. Gilbert's hands were warm and ever so slightly moist. Slowly, Ludwig leaned his head down, searching, hardly daring to believe this was happening.

His lips hit just above the corner of Gilbert's mouth. He didn't move for a moment, just savored the delicate softness of his skin, the heat of his body, breathing in his heady, musky-sweet scent. A slight shudder ran through Ludwig's body as he exhaled.

Gilbert stayed still beneath him. Ludwig could feel his tensed muscles through his cotton shirt. The rigidness of Gilbert's body suddenly brought to mind the image of a corpse, and then the memory of a time not so long ago when Gilbert had lain unmoving in bed. Frowning slightly, Ludwig dispelled the thought. He needed Gilbert to move, he needed to know that this was somehow okay.

Tentatively, he moved his mouth a quarter of an inch to the left so that his lips brushed against Gilbert's, so soft, so warm. He waited, hoping, dreading, barely holding himself together as he felt the hard contours of his brother's body against his own, basking in their conjoined heat and relishing in every inch of sticky skin pressing into skin and this was real, he couldn't believe how real it was.

Gilbert hesitated. His little brother, Ludwig, pressed against him, lips touching, asking for something Gilbert wasn't sure he could give, wasn't sure he ever should give. But the warmth of another body, a strong body, a body that welcomed and wanted him, was undeniable.

_You're sick, that's your brother, that's your little brother! It's Ludwig!_

And yet.

Gilbert was tired. And he was scared. And Ludwig was safe. At least, he was if he didn't leave, if Gilbert didn't drive him away as he had everyone else. And there was a pair of lips against his own, and if he tried he didn't have to think what it meant, could just kiss, could just feel, could just _do_ , be close to someone.

And he knew Ludwig was waiting for his signal.

He felt like there was a cord inside him, strung the length of his entire body, pulled very taut and humming in dreadful anticipation. It made him slightly sick to his stomach, but slowly, very slowly, he forced his jaw open against Ludwig's hot mouth.

Relief, relief and an almost incomprehensible elation flooded through Ludwig as he felt his brother accept the kiss. He was shaking, barely holding back tears, as he took Gilbert's lip into his mouth, barely suppressing a groan at the wet, soft warmth he had dreamed so long of possessing.

Gilbert gasped a little at the sensation of his brother pulling, licking at his lower lip. Something warm shuddered through his gut. He moved his mouth a little, awkwardly, but then Ludwig molded them together, lips overlapping, tongue probing cautiously, kiss deepening with every convulsion of lips twisting and pressing into one another, until their tongues, slippery, hot, were rubbing against each other, around the ridges of mouths and backs of teeth, curling together and apart and back again in ungraceful, hasty motions.

Gilbert was overwhelmed. He breathed heavily through his nose, squeezing his eyes tight to keep from screaming or crying or exploding or _something_ , because there was a part of him he wished he could ignore that was saying this felt so good, the animal rawness of it all, the frightening passion, and everything was sliding, moving, rubbing, hot, Ludwig's mouth tongue lips body, hips gyrating gradually into Gilbert's, and Gilbert hadn't noticed when he'd started to press back, or when his hands had gone to clutching his brother's hair and side, where he could feel hard, toned muscle beneath his fingers, beneath that hot—no, burning—skin, and there was something rising inside him that he was helpless to control, something irresistible and sickening and exciting about the way Ludwig's groin was pressed to his, moving, rubbing together, and the way their mouths melted into one indistinguishable mess of tongue and smooth inside of cheek and spit.

One of them let out the tiniest moan. Neither was sure which one.

Finally Gilbert pulled back, gasping, panting, cord inside tauter still and humming angrily, busily, almost numbingly because this was too much, he was feeling far too much.

Ludwig stayed with his open mouth pressed to Gilbert's cheek and jaw, breathing hard as he struggled to control himself. This was everything he'd been dreaming of, but rather than satisfying, their kiss only awakened something within him. He was filled with such a roaring hunger, wanting, needing more—but he was still sensible of his brother. He longed, more than anything, for him to enjoy this too—and yet, a small part of him, one drowned out by the singing in his nerves and veins, almost wished Gilbert would push him away. What they were doing, it was frightening. It was what he wanted, but it was frightening.

For Ludwig was, in truth, terrified of getting what he most desired. But that terror swelling inside him was like a high, forcing him on, pushing the boundaries further, further—and he knew there was no going back. There was no way to erase this. And if they couldn't go back, then why not go on…?

His mouth moved against his brother's skin, tasting. First by the ear, then the corner of his jaw, then his neck, then across his throat and Adam's apple that was moving up and down, up and down as Gilbert swallowed and panted, breathing coming shallow. Ludwig's kisses grew more hurried, trying to cover as much of the salty, oddly sweet skin as possible. Gilbert's skin. His brother's skin, oh god his _skin._ It burned his mouth, and his mouth burned Gilbert.

Ludwig worked his way down to the collarbone, making Gilbert give a barely audible gasp as he ran his lips and tongue inside the line of his clavicle, tasting the sweat gathered there. The fire in his gut flared. His mouth trailed down, and he met his shirt.

He paused only for a moment, feverish body trembling with want. This was dirty. He was dirty. But hadn't he already been dirtied long ago? He couldn't worry about that now, not when everything he wanted, everything he needed, was here, splayed out beneath him.

He moved his hands up Gilbert's sides, fingers catching the fabric of his flimsy shirt. He pushed it up cautiously, almost reverently, over Gilbert's stomach, waiting to see if Gilbert would stop him. He didn't.

With that tacit permission, Ludwig hurriedly pulled the tank the rest of the way up Gilbert's torso, fumbling a bit as he worked it over his head and arms, then tossed it aside. His hands came to rest cautiously on Gilbert's chest; even that sent his stomach into flips.

Gilbert simply lay there, waiting, trying to deny the warmth of his brother's hands, and yet wishing he would just go on, not stop, not stop and leave time to think. He shivered at the feel of Ludwig's fingers trailing down his chest and abs, then pushing back up, harder, till they clasped around his shoulders again. Gilbert lurched up to meet Ludwig's mouth as he bent down again.

The kiss was sloppy, harsh. Teeth clashed and lips sucked with obscene squelches. They gasped into each other's mouths, and Ludwig's hands were everywhere, everywhere, sides shoulders stomach hips all at once, as Gilbert clung to him, fingers digging deep into the flesh of his back.

Ludwig was rubbing against him again, in that enthusiastic but distracted way of a vague desire, a restless want to drive towards _something_. The way Ludwig was moving was making it very difficult for Gilbert to think. The friction between them was hot, and now their bare stomachs were pressing together, betraying their hidden softness.

Gilbert liked not being able to think. Then, he didn't have a choice, did he? He couldn't be held responsible, he hardly knew—didn't know—what he was even doing—fingers clasping, back arching, pelvis grinding—oh _God_ it felt good to touch another body—

_Your little brother's body—_

_No! Shut up! Just feel, feel, oh God it feels so good… no bad, dirty, so so wrong—fuck, no, good, too good…_

And then he felt something press against him _there_ —purposeful, sending a searing bolt of pleasure straight to his stomach. Gilbert gasped.

Ludwig kept his hand over Gilbert's covered member, rubbing him through the soft cloth of his sweatpants. Something tightened in his gut, a panicky warning that he really shouldn't be doing that. But God he wanted to so badly, to touch Gilbert like this—

Gilbert let out a small noise, a sort of choked off groan, and pressed his body wantonly up against his brother's. The response spurred Ludwig to grab at Gilbert's hips, pulling him to himself with almost violent need.

What happened next was a blur of sensation. Ludwig, feeling his brother's want, slid his hand under the band of his sweatpants. It was almost a marvel to find that piece of anatomy, so natural and ubiquitous in the male sex, on his brother. A hot, hot shaft, half-stiff but skin silky soft. Ludwig wrapped his fingers around it and pulled the pliable skin up and back down. Gilbert's breath caught in another throaty half-moan.

Frantic hands scrabbled all over; impatient, demanding hands, and before either knew what they were doing the sweatpants, the boxers, were tangled around their ankles, then shuffled off and kicked over the side of the bed. And suddenly there were legs against legs such that it was almost difficult to tell the mess of limbs apart. They sank into each other's skins, letting their groins press together, feeling the hot, soft, sticky forbidden places on each other's bodies.

Their panting was humid and loud in the darkness. Fingers fumbled till Ludwig was able to wrap his hand around Gilbert's growing erection, stroking its length. He couldn't help thinking it felt right, in the wrongest way possible, the way his brother's cock filled his grasp, pressing into his palm and responding to his touch. He lowered his mouth hungrily to Gilbert's neck once more, sucking harshly at the skin there, on his shoulder, down to his chest. His, all his, oh god _finally_ Gilbert was his, this was actually _happening_ …

Gilbert's fingers convulsed in Ludwig's hair as he kept a firm grasp on his head. His pelvis jerked repeatedly up into Ludwig's hand. His mind floated further from his body. He simply responded automatically to Ludwig's touches in whatever way was most pleasurable, nerves completely bypassing what little capacity for judgment he still retained. He felt helpless, malleable, under his strong brother, body caught up in the waves of pleasure coursing through him.

It was at that point, as they were pressed together, sweaty, naked, that that detached part of Gilbert's consciousness really acknowledged the possibility of sex. His stomach dropped with a thrill of terror and something else Gilbert didn't care to name. Ludwig's mouth was on his stomach, wet, smooth, scalding, obscene, tantalizing. Gilbert found himself unconsciously preparing for what was surely to follow; relax the sphincter, prepare to accept another man inside of him. Gilbert breathed in deeply and forced a slow breath out. It had been a while since he had bottomed. He tried not to think about who it would be to.

But the feeling of that slick, hot mouth working its slippery way to his shaft jerked him into alertness. The cord inside pulled taut with a snap, sudden panic and revulsion clutching his stomach and chest.

"N-no!"

Ludwig jerked his head up in surprise, dropping Gilbert's cock from his grasp.

"D-don't—not—not that…" Gilbert panted out. That—that he couldn't do. He couldn't accept a blowjob from his little brother. Maybe it was hypocritical, being so alarmed at oral sex but not at the possibility of actual intercourse, and yet there was something about it, too imbalanced, too dirty, degrading.

Ludwig simply stared for a minute, eyes straining in the darkness. The bubble of elation in his stomach deflated and caved in on itself. He should have guessed this would happen. He had gone too far. Gilbert hadn't wanted this—probably not any of this. How stupid could he be, to think his brother would want head from him? How could he ever have thought Gilbert would be okay with this?

He started to shift away, head hung in shame. Gilbert's hand shot out to clasp his arm.

"Just—" Gilbert paused. He took a deep breath. "Just do it," he whispered. "Just get it over with," he strained out. He shifted on the mattress, spreading his legs further on either side of his brother, to make his point, hoping he wouldn't have to spell it out.

Ludwig blinked. Then comprehension dawned on him. "Wh—no! No, I—I can't, I—I wanted, you, to…" He swallowed. How could he say this? How could he possibly tell his brother he wanted him to, plainly put, fuck him up the ass? No matter how he phrased it, there could be no veiling that crude, depraved truth.

But Gilbert had thought Ludwig would top? It didn't seem right—too bizarre—his own older brother—and yet… that meant Gilbert was willing to _have sex_.

Something thrilling and terrible gripped Ludwig's gut as he waited in anticipation, dreading and pleading for his brother to understand and accept the switch of expected roles.

Gilbert stared at his brother's indistinct silhouette. Surely, he had misheard. Surely he'd misunderstood. Was his brother… Did Ludwig want him to…

Gilbert's whole body went tense. No. No no no. _Being_ fucked would be wrong enough, but at least he could feel as though he was allowing Ludwig some sort of release, could almost convince himself he'd be helping him—but _fucking_ him, sticking his dick in him and using him for his own sexual gratification? Being the active one, the responsible one? The thought was too horrific.

But Ludwig was hovering over him again, leaning down, tentatively. His hand, warm and large, rested surprisingly lightly against Gilbert's hip. Ludwig leaned slightly to the side, sinking into the mattress next to him, and the slight pressure of his fingers was encouraging Gilbert to roll towards him, to take the upper hand.

Once again, Gilbert's body responded automatically. He found himself twisting until he was leaning over his brother.

But what came next? Gilbert was frozen. He didn't know what to do, was scared to move, lest his body continue its rebellious behavior. He hardly dared breathe.

Ludwig waited with baited breath. After a few tense seconds he tried shifting his legs a bit, letting his knees fall slightly more open. He felt shameless. His heart beat a tattoo in his throat.

But still Gilbert didn't move.

Finally, Ludwig had to speak.

"Gilbert." His voice was quiet, tight. "Please…" His fingers stretched up to his brother's bony hip, using just enough pressure to make him understand he wanted him close, wanted their bodies touching again.

Gilbert knew he should just leave. Knew he should walk away, that really it wasn't too late just yet. But there was something more irresistible than gravity pulling him down, down towards that warm mass of soft solidity that was his brother.

He shuddered slightly as their groins came back into contact, then their stomachs, ribs, mouths. But Gilbert couldn't find the will to truly kiss his brother. It hardly mattered, though, for in the next moment Ludwig's tongue had found its way back into his mouth, and his large hands were roaming down, to the juncture of hip and thigh, around to sink fingers into deliciously soft globes of flesh, pulling, kneading.

Gilbert gasped at the shock of pleasure that shot through his stomach at the feeling of the calloused palms pressing into his backside, rolling into his flesh. A small sound of want escaped his throat and he immediately wished he could swallow it back inside. He felt dirty, making a sound like that from his _brother's_ touch.

The hands, the mouths, became more desperate, clinging, gripping. Limbs shifted. And suddenly, Gilbert realized that this was when it should happen. This was the moment to progress to sex. Ludwig's legs were spread, Gilbert had slid down just enough—when had that happened?—to position his member between his brother's thighs, and they were both clearly aroused.

He took all this in in less than a second, and quickly brought his hand up to spit in his palm—real lube would take too long, leave too much time to rethink—then back down to coat his member sloppily, grip it and place it at Ludwig's entrance.

All this happened very quickly, so that Ludwig only really realized what was going on when he felt the slight prod of the head of Gilbert's cock right against his sensitive ring of muscles. A sharp intake of breath, then the panicky self-preparation for being entered. Ludwig could have sworn he nearly came merely from the sudden anticipation.

But the expected penetration didn't follow. Instead, Ludwig realized after a few moments of barely-contained delirium, Gilbert had frozen again. Ludwig tried rolling his hips, rubbing the soft skin of his entrance and perineum against his brother's cock in encouragement, shivering in delight at the feel of the intimate contact. In that shameless moment, he was very glad for the absence of light.

But to Ludwig's alarm Gilbert startled back, practically cowering away on the bed.

"I can't… I c-can't, oh god I can't…" Gilbert's voice was high, half-sob, half-moan. A new horror had gripped him. Cold sweat broke out across his skin. The feeling of his own member, pressing against that most intimate of openings on _his little brother's body…_ It was too much. Too real. There was no way he could go through with this. It was insanity.

And again, Ludwig felt the shock of disappointment, of mortification, like a splash of cold water to the face. His cheeks burned, his head spun. His legs drew closed, sheepish, retreating, and his knees fell to the side, away from Gilbert, as he half-curled in on himself, laying dejectedly on the rumpled blankets, trying to slow his breathing. But his heart continued to knock around in his ribs, to roar in his ears.

Neither moved for what felt like a long time. Gilbert huddled with his back to the wall, legs drawn up in front of him. He expected Ludwig to do something. In fact, he wanted him to do something. He didn't want to be the first to move. He almost wished Ludwig would grab him and throw him down, force him, take what he wanted, because Gilbert couldn't give it freely. But he did so badly want his brother to be happy.

Ludwig didn't know what to do. He couldn't lie here forever, he knew. But he also couldn't bring himself to leave. Leaving was admitting defeat, acknowledging that what they'd almost done could never happen. And Ludwig couldn't face that possibility. That was something he could not handle. He didn't know what he might do with himself if he had to walk out now, knowing how close he'd come to something he would never be able to experience. He couldn't let go just yet.

And so he let his hand stretch out on the blankets towards his brother, until his fingers made contact with the smooth skin and fine hairs of a leg. Gilbert's flinch was barely noticeable. He did not pull away though, and so Ludwig tentatively let his fingers slide further, up the leg, over the knee, to the thigh, the soft, hot, fleshy part near the groin. It was thrilling, strange, to touch his brother like this. There he paused, barely daring to hope Gilbert would accept the touch. He rubbed slowly at the bit of fat there, almost surprised to find it present even on his brother's lithe body.

It was too much for Gilbert. He couldn't stand the storm of emotions raging through him, tearing him apart from the inside out. He wanted to let go, to not have to think, to not have to care. He knew he should resist, but he didn't want to anymore. He couldn't. And a part of him, a dark part deep down he wished he could deny, wanted so badly to feel wanted. To that selfish part of him, it didn't matter if it was his brother asking, practically begging, for him. All that mattered was that someone really, truly desired him, Gilbert, to take them.

And that was exactly what Ludwig wanted.

And so when he felt Ludwig shift and his warm puffs of breath ghost over his thigh, all Gilbert did, all he could do, was sit there in tense, desperate anticipation.

Ludwig hesitated a moment, hand still resting on the inside of Gilbert's leg. The he brought his lips to Gilbert's abdomen, gently kissing the smooth skin below the ribs. He began to rub Gilbert's thigh again, venturing closer to the juncture of leg and torso. He kissed lower, on his stomach, then just below his bellybutton.

He lingered there, lips and hot breath against soft flesh. He could smell Gilbert's sex. It made his insides roll with want, and not for the first time he wondered how it was possible his own brother could elicit such a physical, visceral reaction in him.

"Gilbert…" he murmured against his skin. His finger grazed gently along Gilbert's sac and his brother shuddered. He was feverishly warm there between his legs.

Ludwig didn't know how to ask for what he wanted, so, as if in question, he let his finger trail to the underside of Gilbert's cock, then up its length, still fairly hard, to the tip. He lowered his face, letting his nose bury itself in tickling pubic hairs, letting his lips just barely graze the base of Gilbert's shaft. The familiar smell of sweaty, secret places was so pungent he could barely think straight.

He could feel that his brother was tense, but he made no move to stop him. Ludwig was nervous too, though. Just because Gilbert wasn't stopping him didn't mean he wanted this. And Ludwig couldn't stand the thought of forcing his brother into anything.

He swallowed hard. Then, breathless, he asked, "Can I…?"

The knot in Gilbert's stomach tightened. _Don't ask me that, God don't ask me that._ His eyes squeezed shut. He knew he had to answer.

"…Yeah," he forced out. His voice was not his own, high, almost pained.

Ludwig breathed a sigh of reverent relief. The exhilaration as he took hold of his brother's shaft made him tremble. And slowly, slowly, he brought his aching jaw forward until his nervous tongue met the salty, smooth head of Gilbert's cock.

He nearly groaned in ecstasy as he let his tongue rub at the underside of the head, probing at the partially-retracted foreskin. He wanted to savor this, to take his time, and yet he wanted more, wanted to give as much pleasure as possible at once. He closed his lips tentatively around the shaft, marveling at how large even just the head felt in his mouth and hoping he wouldn't choke or make a fool of himself. He sucked, hard, beginning to bob his head just slightly, trying to coordinate his tongue rubbing against the tip, and relishing more than anything this taste, this taste that was his brother in such an intimate way, this taste he had imagined for so long.

Gilbert's head banged against the wall dully when he felt Ludwig form the vacuum with his lips. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until he had to let it out to gasp. It was so heavenly, the silken tongue, the toe-curling heat. Gilbert fisted the sheets and squeezed his eyes shut, mouth hanging open in a silent moan and oh God it was Ludwig, that was Ludwig making him feel like this, his little brother with his mouth on his cock God what was doing what was he thinking—

The gut-wrenching feel of Ludwig's warm, firm grip rotating around his shaft, pulling up and down and figure-eighting, almost forced a groan from his throat. Oh God he was selfish, he was terrible, despicable, letting his little brother do this to him because oh god it felt so good but it was so so wrong—

Gilbert, not Ludwig, was closer to choking when he finally decided to take more of the hard length into his mouth. Gilbert's hand nearly shot out to grip Ludwig's hair, but he restrained himself, instead biting his lip to keep from screaming in a combination of pleasure and despair. He felt like he could almost cry at how terrible and wonderful and confusing the whole thing was.

Ludwig tried everything within his limited knowledge of going down on a guy. He was desperate to please. He did almost everything he'd imagined doing with his brother's cock in his mouth, but it all came out just a bit sloppier than it had been in his fantasies. It struck him how much more difficult it was to work with a penis than they made it seem in every porno he'd ever watched. It was slippery and uncooperative, and at least at the moment not as rock-hard as they always looked onscreen, still quite pliable. That, along with the darkness and his own lack of clear thinking, made it difficult to target specific areas with accuracy. He hoped his enthusiasm made up for it.

He tried swallowing around the length, surprised at how full and warm it felt in the entrance to his throat, drool smearing on his fist and in Gilbert's pubes. He flicked his tongue against the frenulum, sucked his way up the shaft, worked his mouth around the glans, and bobbed up and down at a feverish pitch, meeting his lips halfway with his hands pumping the base.

There was something surreal about it all. Here was his brother's cock, and he was sucking it. In the end, it all came down to the physical reality of it. Gilbert had a penis like any other guy, Ludwig had a mouth like anyone else. But it was strange, so strange to connect with his brother's anatomy like this. To be doing something so, sexual, intimate, completely forbidden, with him. Ludwig was almost surprised to find that there wasn't any metaphysical barrier preventing this incestuous act from occurring. It was as simple as reaching out his hand, taking his brother's cock, and putting it in his mouth. Simple. Base. Unglamorous.

He tried to memorize the taste of Gilbert's member, of his pre-come dribbling warmly from the tip. He drank in the sound of Gilbert's whining breaths and barely repressed whimpers. Hearing them gave him a sick sense of accomplishment, a perverse satisfaction. He felt bad, because even though Gilbert had agreed, he still knew he was the one responsible for all this, really, but he tried to convince himself that it was alright, because he was making his brother feel good, just listen to all the pleasure he was giving him…

Finally Gilbert couldn't take it anymore. He wasn't naïve, he understood what this was leading up to, and if he climaxed now it would ruin everything; they would have to stop there, and all that would have happened was Ludwig giving him a blowjob. And as counterintuitive as it might have been, Gilbert didn't want that. Even if it meant taking things further, he wanted to return the pleasure. He couldn't be selfish with his brother. This was all supposed to be for him anyway, wasn't it? Gilbert acknowledged that his mind was not working logically at the moment, but he wasn't sure how much logic could help him in a situation like this.

He forced himself to do exactly what he'd been trying not to for the past several minutes: touch his brother. He placed a hand on Ludwig's shoulder—all too solid reminder of the body, the person beyond the mouth—and pushed him away. He was dismayed to find that when Ludwig looked up, even in the dim room he could make out just enough of Ludwig's features to be sure beyond a doubt who had just been going down on him. He felt disgusted with himself. But he swallowed, and forced himself to shift towards Ludwig, pushing his little brother back into the mattress.

That strange, disembodied feeling overtook him again. His motions felt detached, almost mechanical, as he placed himself between Ludwig's knees, spat for the second time that night into his hand and coated his fingers, prodded around the softness of Ludwig's asscheeks till his fingers slipped between, found the little puckered hole.

Gilbert didn't hesitate, because he knew he couldn't, or he'd freeze up again. He pressed, until his index finger slipped inside and found the smooth, hot walls of his brother's passage. Ludwig gasped and clenched down hard, but Gilbert had already started moving the finger in and out.

Ludwig couldn't help but groan. The feeling of being entered there was so foreign, yet inexplicably pleasurable. And the knowledge that it was his brother's hand, that Gilbert was doing this to him, made him tremble with excitement. He was so open, so vulnerable to him. Gilbert was entering his very body, and Ludwig was completely unprotected, unhidden save by darkness—it was terrifying and thrilling.

Gilbert pressed in with another finger and Ludwig whimpered slightly at the sting of being stretched. Soon though, the pleasure of the added friction at his entrance had replaced it, and Ludwig began rolling his hips up eagerly to meet Gilbert's hand. He was somewhat abashed at showing his brother how much he liked what he was doing to him, but at the same time he hoped it would encourage him.

Gilbert tugged a few times at Ludwig's penis, making sure he was aroused enough. He withdrew his fingers and spat one more time onto them, rubbing his spit over Ludwig's entrance. He gripped his cock and smeared the head in the makeshift lubricant between Ludwig's cheeks.

Gilbert's heart was pounding wildly in his ribs. He knew it was now or never. A part of him knew that never was probably better, but a more stubborn part was egging him to go through with what he'd started. Before he could think about it too much, he shifted his weight forward, made sure Ludwig's legs were up high enough, and began to push in.

His stomach flipped as the head of his cock came into contact with Ludwig's velvety walls. They were so tight, practically constricting his dick, and burning hot.

Ludwig gasped as he felt Gilbert enter him. Very quickly though, the excitement was overtaken by discomfort; as the wide part of the head tried to push inside pain stabbed through his nether regions. Ludwig tried to keep his mouth shut, didn't want Gilbert to stop, didn't want him to think he was hurting him, but he couldn't help the whimper that escaped his throat.

Gilbert paused. Through the mental fog that was the burning pleasure wrapped around his cock he managed to rasp out, "Am I hurting you?"

Ludwig winced. "N-no, just, go slow…"

Gilbert almost wished he hadn't said anything. He didn't like hearing his brother's voice in this situation, especially as it was strained with a combination of lust and pain Gilbert had never heard in his voice before. But he did not want to hurt him.

Gilbert started to press forward again, and Ludwig whimpered again. Gilbert stopped for a moment, and Ludwig had to admit he was grateful. He tried to breathe, tried to relax.

Again, Gilbert pushed in, and this time Ludwig bit his lip and bore it. It was uncomfortable, but there was something else too—not pleasure, not yet, but an incomprehensible fullness, completeness, in a way he had never know possible. As Gilbert reached a spot deep inside him, his gut twisted and spontaneous tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. It was as though Gilbert had uncovered some previously unknown ache in his core, like pressing a bruise so hard it felt good. It forced a short, helpless groan from his chest.

Ludwig tried to remember to keep breathing, but it was difficult. Breathing was trivial compared to the fact that Gilbert was _inside of him_. He and his brother were connected in the most intimate way possible, just as Ludwig had so longed for. It didn't seem like it could possibly be real. Maybe it really was just a very vivid, pleasurable dream.

He shuddered at the feeling of Gilbert pulling out, a slow dragging feeling that started deep in his gut. When he thrust back in, still slow, there was another stab, this time more pleasure than pain, that left Ludwig gasping. Then, before he could recover, Gilbert was pulling out and pushing in again, and Ludwig was gasping again, unable to keep up with the electric jolts his body was receiving.

After a few more thrusts like this, Gilbert started to speed up. Now the pleasure was a constant in Ludwig's gut, a tight burning knot in his abdomen. His breathing hitched every time the tip of Gilbert's cock pressed against his walls. He wished he could moan, somehow let out some of this pent-up sensation, but he was still too self-conscious.

He also wished that Gilbert would touch him more. Right now he was practically upright, holding up the backs of Ludwig's thighs. Ludwig wanted him to lean over, to feel their flesh pressing together, to feel his mouth again…

But he didn't dare ask. The sensation of Gilbert sliding in and out of him was more than distracting anyways, so he allowed himself to focus just on it, just on the delicious friction wrenching his gut tighter and tighter.

Gilbert, though, was getting impatient. This position wasn't ideal for maneuvering, and he could tell he wasn't eliciting as much of a reaction as he could be. And on top of that, there was something about being face to face with his brother that he found unbearable. Even if there were feet of space between them, even if the darkness covered their faces, he felt much too visible, exposed. Even if Ludwig couldn't see him, he didn't want him looking at him in this shameful position.

He withdrew suddenly, making Ludwig groan in something like disappointment, and muttered, "Turn over."

Ludwig blinked in confusion, but obeyed his brother's command and pushing hands, and rolled onto his stomach, awkwardly rearranging his legs. Gilbert lifted his hips up and quickly reentered him.

Ludwig wasn't able to stifle the first cry. For the second thrust he bit down on the pillow, though, letting the soft cloth absorb his humiliating noises. The new angle felt entirely different; Ludwig was sure that must be his prostate Gilbert was hitting. His saliva and tears of pleasure dampened the pillow as he moaned, insides roiling in bliss.

Now, Gilbert was able to truly let go. Animal instinct took over as he rutted into the body before him. Ludwig's insides clung around his length, seeming to suck him in deeper, deeper each time, sinking into that warm cushioning embrace. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Ludwig's chest, reveling in the feel of a hard strong body against his as he slammed his hips forward harder, faster, gut tightening in desperate need.

The obscene smack of flesh on flesh, the creak of bedsprings, the half-stifled grunts and moans of lust filled the room. Ludwig's elbows slipped forward further and further with the force of Gilbert's thrusts, but he was too lost to even think of propping himself back up. His tear-streaked face pressed further into the pillow until his whole chest was pushed up against the mattress. One desperate hand reached back to his brother's thigh, guiltily egging him on with clutching fingers as the pillow swallowed up his groans.

Gilbert straightened up a little for a better angle. His hands gripped Ludwig's hips hard, practically pulling him down on his shaft, wanting more friction, more tightness, more everything. His breathing was quick and shallow, soft grunts of effort coming more frequently.

Ludwig felt wetness dripping on his back and shoulders and realized it was Gilbert's sweat. He wasn't sure if he was more disgusted or turned on by that. His hand went to between his legs, grabbing his own aching cock and beginning to pump furiously.

He was overcome with sensation. The incessant pounding so deep inside, the rub of his own hand on his member; he could tell he was getting close. His gut was tightening inexorably. He almost didn't want it to—he didn't want this to end, this terrible, wonderful closeness to his brother, wanted to keep going and going and feeling closer, closer still, to kiss and hold and feel Gilbert, to feel more of him, more, more, _oh god yes more don't stop don't stop fuck Gilbert yes yes yes—_

With a final jab at his prostate, Ludwig came all over his hand and the sheets. His whole body tightened, pulling Gilbert's cock as deep inside as possible, as his own cock pulsed with each spurt of hot semen. A helpless cry tore from his lungs as his essence was spilt.

Gilbert groaned as Ludwig convulsed around him. " _Fuuuuckk…_ "

Ludwig whimpered with each thrust into his sensitive passage, lying absolutely boneless on the bed. Gilbert pressed him down quickly, so his hips met the mattress, and continued to push through his clinging asscheeks into the tight hot hole.

Every breath was a grunt now, each one more and more desperate, until finally—"Uhn, uhn, nngh, _mmmff—fffuck—_ "

With a shudder Gilbert came, head back, spine arched, toes curling and eyes clamped shut. Ludwig shivered and gasped as he felt his brother's hot sperm— _Gilbert's,_ Gilbert's _come—_ pooling inside of him. It was strange, to feel something so liquid and warm so deep.

Gilbert stayed suspended there for a few seconds, panting, head tingling. Piece by piece the world started coming back to him. First came sound: his heartbeat, the heavy breathing of the body beneath him; then touch: the warmth and softness of the skin his hands were gripping, the trickle of sweat tickling his neck; next smell: sex, semen, sweat, clinging heavily to the air.

And then realization. Ludwig's breathing. Ludwig's skin. Sex, with Ludwig.

_Ludwig._

Gilbert pulled out quickly let himself fall to the side, face down. He closed his eyes, breathing hard, trying not to let his thoughts rush in all at once.

Ludwig waited, barely daring to breathe. He could feel the spunk inside him oozing along his passage. It was incredibly weird.

He wanted to be able to turn to his brother, hold him, tell him he loved him. But he couldn't. He realized, with sinking stomach, that he didn't know how Gilbert would react, what he was thinking in this very moment. Panic gripped him as various possibilities crossed his mind—what if Gilbert was already regretting it? What if he felt like Ludwig had forced him into this? He shouldn't have pushed so hard, he shouldn't have insisted, he should never have put Gilbert in this situation, and why wasn't he doing anything _why won't he say anything?_

Ludwig waited, on edge, and still Gilbert didn't move. Ludwig realized he couldn't stay there. Gilbert probably didn't want him there. Half-heartedly, sick to his stomach, he shifted his sticky body off the bed. He cringed a little, sure a bit of come was leaking out of him. He was unsteady on his legs. His asshole felt strange.

He was feeling around on the floor for his boxers when Gilbert's voice came from behind. "What're you doin'?" He sounded hoarse.

Ludwig paused. He felt awkward speaking for some reason. "I, was just… I didn't think you, would, um… I-I thought I should go…" His face burned. His chest felt tight.

Gilbert was silent for a moment. Then he made a sound that tried and failed to be a laugh. "Go? You just—you gonna, walk out and, and leave me like a one nighter from the club?" The joke died in his throat, and he ended sounding too fragile.

Ludwig was surprised. "N-no, I, I don't have to go…" In fact he was grateful not to. Still unsure of himself, he went back to the bed and crawled under the blankets next to his brother.

They lay side by side, not speaking. Ludwig was wishing Gilbert would say something, anything, tell him it was going to be okay. It would be nice if he held him, too. But he didn't dare touch his brother. An overwhelming sense of remorse was creeping up his throat.

Gilbert was trying hard not to cry.

Tentatively, he reached out a hand, just far enough to grasp Ludwig's elbow, but he didn't dare to touch his brother any more than that. He was wishing Ludwig would say something, anything, tell him it was going to be okay. But he was the older brother; that was supposed to be his job. But he wasn't sure he could say that at the moment.

Ludwig grasped his elbow in return, and they lay like that in the darkness, trying desperately to find sleep.

As they drifted off slowly, one thought was on both of their minds: _Forgive me, brother._

…

When Gilbert awoke in the morning, Ludwig was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Where's Ludwig? What does Gilbert do? Everything you'd probably expect to find in the next chapter, namely angsty pseudo-resolution of the Beilschmidt bros' latest misadventure.


	24. Chapter 18

Gilbert awoke with a start and the vaguely panicky feeling of one who has slept past their alarm on exam day but hasn't yet looked at the clock to confirm their sinking suspicion. He was disoriented; his thoughts moved like mud oozing down a creek bed. Something was wrong. He turned to his side and was surprised to find the space next to him empty, though for a split second he wasn't sure why.

And then he remembered.

Ludwig.

Ludwig was gone.

For a moment everything was tense and still. It couldn't be true, his senses were deceiving him, Ludwig would appear any second now, there in the corner of the room—his peripheral vision had never been good—or, even more likely, it had all been a dream. Yes, that was it, last night was just a dream—these flashes of moans in the darkness, of the stench of sex and the heat of another body—all a vivid, terrible dream.

But even as Gilbert thought that, the smell of sweat and semen reached his nostrils. He became aware of his own nakedness beneath the covers. Guilty, marked flesh against deceptively innocent cotton sheets.

He leapt up unceremoniously and grabbed his boxers off the floor, trying not to think about how they got there. He noted that Ludwig's clothes were nowhere to be seen.

_That doesn't mean anything—he's in the bathroom, cleaning up, or maybe already downstairs making breakfast—yes, he'll be making me pancakes, and we'll eat them together and everything will be fine, he doesn't hate me, we'll be just fine—_

Gilbert dashed to the bathroom and threw open the door. Empty. Heart racing, he flung open his bedroom door and bolted down the stairs and to the kitchen. Empty.

His heart was in his throat now. Trembling, he walked to the living room. Empty. The dining room. Empty. Out the front door, to the porch. Empty. Stumble down the steps, run half-heartedly to the sidewalk: no Ludwig.

The cold morning sunrays pierced Gilbert's eyes like daggers. He squinted; everything was blurry, but he knew he would have been able to recognize Ludwig's form if he had been there. He shivered, still in only his boxers. Two people across the street had stopped moving. He couldn't make out their faces but they were probably staring at him.

But still no Ludwig.

Numb, Gilbert turned and walked back into the house. Back up the stairs, back to his room, close the door behind him.

He stood just inside the doorway, staring at a faded stain on the carpet. Slowly, his eyes trailed up to the bed. The site of the act. The crime scene. The desecrated object, steeped in miasma.

And suddenly, he couldn't stand it; couldn't stand that the bed was just sitting there, playing innocent, as if nothing had happened, as if it had not abetted a disgusting, sinful act.

With a surge of desperate rage he darted forward and took hold of the sheets. He tore them from the mattress and threw them to the floor, away from him, in a corner. Dirty, polluted, begrimed sheets. He pulled in frustration when the fitted sheet caught on the corner, finally yanking it free by pulling the mattress partway off the bed frame. The pillows quickly followed the sheets to the floor.

Gilbert stood, panting, staring. It wasn't enough. He wished he had an axe there, so he could hack away at the bed frame, chop it into little pieces and set it all aflame.

He grabbed the mattress by the edges and hauled it up. With some difficulty, he was able to get it to the floor and stand it upright so it leaned against the edge of the bed frame. He wanted it gone.

Gilbert felt somewhat impotent as he clumsily rolled the mattress along its edges towards the bathroom door, trying to keep it from tipping over. It was heavy and cumbersome and he couldn't shove it along as quickly as he would have liked, but at least it kept him occupied. His mind and body concentrated entirely on getting the mattress through the door.

Finally, by lying it down on its long end and leaning it against the doorframe, he was able to slide it into the bathroom. It was a little too long for the small bathroom and Gilbert had to throw all his weight against the door to bend the mattress up and close it inside. When the latch clicked at last, Gilbert slumped against the door, panting. He turned, resting his bare back against the cool wood of the door, and stared at the now bare bed frame.

He wondered what Ludwig was doing right now.

Ludwig. Ludwig. His little brother. Had he really…?

Something hot moved up his throat. For a moment he thought he might be sick. He swallowed, willing away the stinging in his sinuses and eyes.

Emptiness. Emptiness was better than the pain of acknowledging. Don't think about the little boy with yellow hair who begged for piggyback rides. Don't think about the wide blue eyes and the line of baby teeth in his trusting smile.

Think of nothing.

Gilbert stared blankly at the carpet. His eyes found the old stain again. Funny, how he'd never really noticed it was there, though he must have seen it a million times.

He felt… cold.

He stood upright, walked to the center of the room. He couldn't go out. He couldn't just stand there. He couldn't sit on the metal wiring of the bed frame. Sitting in a chair seemed far too normal. Without really making a conscious decision, he crawled under his desk and sat there, hugging his legs against his chest.

It was like a little cave there, under the desk. It shaded him from the lamplight filling the rest of the room. He felt like he wasn't a part of the room; he was detached, outside, looking in. He wondered how long he could stay there. Till his legs cramped up? Till he got too hungry? Till someone came looking for him? He almost snorted at the last thought. Doubtful.

But just then, a knock came at the door.

Gilbert's heart skipped a beat. Ludwig?

But no. A moment later Elizaveta's voice followed; "Hey, Gilbert? Gilbert, can I come in? I want to talk to you."

Gilbert didn't answer. Maybe she'd go away.

"Gilbert, I know you're in there. Look, I'm really sorry about yesterday. Can we talk it over?"

Yesterday? What happened yesterday…? Suddenly it seemed a lifetime ago. The Gilbert of yesterday was a different person.

"I promise I won't slap you twice. Not even once, actually." It sounded like she was trying to make a joke.

Then Gilbert remembered, like it was something submerged deep in cold water, an argument, a slap, a threat.

Elizaveta sighed. "I'm coming in, okay? Whether you like it or not."

The doorknob turned, Elizaveta walked in, and stopped. Gilbert could almost hear her blink. "Gilbert?" She took a few more steps. "Gilbert?" She still hadn't seen him under the desk.

He heard her walk to the bathroom and open the door, then spring back with a startled sound when the mattress flopped down to her feet.

She turned. "Gilbert, where ar—" She gasped a little in surprise when she caught sight of his huddled form beneath the desk. "Oh! I didn't—notice you, wh-what—are you doing, down there…" She sounded scared.

But Gilbert didn't really care. He couldn't think of anything to say so he didn't say anything.

Elizaveta knelt down. She reminded him absurdly of Steve Irwin's wife trying to coax some cute little animal out of its burrow.

"…Gilbert?"

He looked at her.

"Um, do you, want to come out?"

He looked down. It was a question to consider, really. Did he? He wasn't sure.

Elizaveta reached out. Gentle, gentle, careful not to startle the frightened little animal, show it you don't mean any harm. She touched his shoulder.

"Hey." It was almost a whisper. "Hey, can you come out? Please?"

Well, since she asked so nicely. Gilbert unfolded his limbs, already a little stiff, and emerged from under the desk. They stood.

"Um… why don't you sit." Elizaveta gestured to the comfy chair next to them. As if it was her office, not his bedroom.

Gilbert sat. Elizaveta took the desk chair.

"Gilbert." She looked at him very directly. "What's going on."

Gilbert leaned back. It really was a comfy chair. Maybe he could take a nap. Maybe he could sleep in the chair from now on, rather than in the bed. Why did he hate the bed again? Oh, right. The Unthinkable thing.

"Gilbert, look at me." Elizaveta's voice was firm, but there was a veiled concern, fear even, beneath that.

"What?" he croaked. He realized suddenly how parched he was.

Elizaveta cleared her throat. "Why is your… mattress in the bathroom? Why were you beneath the desk?"

Gilbert thought about it. They were good questions. With the mattress—well, he had been angry, he supposed. The desk… he wasn't sure.

"I…" He paused. He paused for a very long time. So long, that Elizaveta almost thought that was all he was going to say.

Then, finally, "I think…" Another pause, not as long as the first.

Then, quietly, "I think… I made… a mistake."

Elizaveta stared at him. "What kind of… mistake?"

Gilbert raised a trembling hand to his mouth. Ludwig's tongue, against his own. Ludwig's legs, against his own. His hands on Ludwig's shaft, on his hips, his ass. The heat of Ludwig's mouth on his cock. A rocking, pounding, incessant, gripping, fingers, mouths, slide, push.

"A…" His voice quavered. "…very bad one." And then he couldn't stop it. The tears spilled over. And they didn't stop. "A very bad one." He pressed his hands to his face, trying to push the tears back inside, trying to hold himself in, trying to contain this roaring awfulness in his head, but it was hopeless, hopeless.

"A very, very bad one…" he sobbed, shoulders shaking uncontrollably. His core was all twisted up in barbed wire—if there had been anything in his stomach he was sure he would have vomited it up.

He felt a hand on his back, arms encircling him. He leaned into Elizaveta's shoulder and cried, and cried, and cried. And then suddenly, he stopped. He was just too tired to cry anymore. He sucked jagged breaths into his lungs, smelling her lavender perfume that used to be so familiar. Somehow, it still had a calming effect.

Elizaveta held him for several long moments, letting him lean into her. The shoulder of her shirt was completely soaked. Gilbert's long, white fingers clung helplessly to her arms.

"Gilbert…" she spoke finally. She drew back to look at his worn, defeated face. "Why don't… why don't I make you a cup of tea, and I'll make your bed for you. Does that sound good? Do you have some fresh sheets?"

Gilbert nodded and pointed to a rubber bin under the bed.

Together they got the mattress back into place. Gilbert waited upstairs while Elizaveta made the tea. He sipped it and watched quietly as she spread the new sheets over the bed.

"Need help?" He felt he should ask.

"No, it's alright." She smiled. He wondered when she had gotten so domestic; she never took such care making a bed when they were dating. Must have been the influence of the prissy musician.

When she was done she turned to Gilbert. She took a deep breath. "You know, Gilbert, if you ever want to talk… I'm here, and I'll listen, okay? You know that, right?"

Gilbert paused, eyes downcast. He nodded silently.

"And I really am sorry about yesterday. I… shouldn't have slapped you. You—were in a bad mood, and I shouldn't have taken it so personally."

Gilbert looked up, surprised to hear such a humble apology from his usually feisty and stubborn ex. There was a light blush across her cheeks and she was biting her lip—Gilbert knew it hadn't been easy for her to say.

He swallowed. "Me too. I… didn't mean any of those things…"

"I know," said Elizaveta quietly.

Gilbert looked down, ashamed. Suddenly a wave of regret washed over him. He had friends, people who cared about him, and yet he let his own stupidity and hot-headedness blind him to that fact, and he had felt so alone that he had… done those things… But he wasn't alone. At least, not when it came to friends. But now, the one he had been trying to keep by his side was gone. He could patch things up with Elizaveta, Mattie, and others, but with Ludwig…? Without his brother, Gilbert felt very alone.

"Was there… anything you wanted to talk about now?"

"…I don't think I can."

"…Anything else I can do?"

Gilbert paused for a long moment. He wished he could stay holed up in his room forever, but that wasn't the way it worked—the world kept moving, and didn't stop for any amount of personal pain or remorse. And Ludwig was somewhere out there, in that frightening, ever-shifting world. What was he doing now, Gilbert wondered…

"You can help me find Ludwig."

…

_Guilt._

_Regret._

_Remorse._

_Shame._

These were what ran through Ludwig's head, what churned his stomach and clawed at his insides with razor talons. He awoke to his brother's sleeping face on the pillow next to him—almost baby-innocent, save a slightly troubled bend in his brow—and the taste of bile in his mouth. He awoke to panic, to cold sweat. And he knew then, that he could not face his brother. After what he had made him do. So, quietly, he slipped out of the bed, dressed, and left.

Outside everything seemed grey in the early morning light. The trance-like time between night and day, when the world has not yet thrown off the haze of dreams and sleep. Ludwig had an unsettling feeling of waking in an alternate dimension—everything was exactly the same, and yet different. Those buildings, those street signs, the same as every time he walked the path back to his dorm, and yet so strange. Those trees, their bare branches scraping the empty sky, identical to what they had been the night before, yet changed.

He reeked of sex. From Angie, from Francis… from his own brother. The dawning realization of all that had transpired the previous night made him reel. For most men, three sexual encounters in a row would be bragging rights for at least a decade. But Ludwig felt far from proud. Whore. Filthy. Disgusting. Slut. Disgraced. God, was it possible for so much to happen in one night? He had taken a woman, and lost his virginity. He had been used and humiliated by an older man. And he had crossed a sacred line, seducing his own flesh and blood and consummating a vile lust. Sick. He was going to be sick.

When he finally managed to stumble back to his room, half-dazed, Ludwig went immediately into the bathroom. He threw his clothes into a corner. He wondered if he'd ever be able to wear them again, without being reminded… Maybe he ought to burn them.

He stood for a long time in the shower, letting the too-hot-for-comfort water run over him. He only turned it off and got out when the fickle dorm plumbing decided it was too early to have consistent water temperature and turned ice-cold.

He swiped himself into his room and donned a t-shirt and boxers quickly and silently, careful not to wake Feliciano, who thankfully was still snoring. He glanced at the digital clock on his desk. 7:23. He must not have slept long in his brother's bed. Less than ten hours ago… everything had been different. But he couldn't take back the slightest part of it. Even the last three hours… He couldn't change any of it now.

He went to his bed, lay down, and tried to forget.

…

Ludwig stared at the page of _Madame Bovary_ he'd been on for the past 40 minutes. He was getting nowhere fast.

He had agreed to study with Feliciano in the library under the pretense of being a Normal Person. Everyone around him in the vast reading room was engrossed in their work, but he couldn't help but imagine that their eyeballs were pricking at his back, looking at him, through him. Seeing his otherness, his dirtiness. His crime. How was it possible for one who had slept with his brother to camouflage himself among the multitudes of people who never dreamed of so grossly transgressing the rules of humanity?

It was no use. And his stomach was growling. He had thought maybe he could swear off food—eating was so trivial, so regular—but it was nearly dinnertime and he had to admit his body was still subject to basic needs. He struggled to remember the last meal he had had…

Pancakes. The pancakes, on Gilbert's bed… a lifetime ago.

He really was in a different world now. For a moment he wondered superstitiously if he ought not to eat, if food was what would anchor him to this terrifying new existence, just like Persephone was duped with those pomegranate seeds and had to stay in the Underworld with Hades…

Stupid. That was stupid. This was his new existence. He was already anchored to it, and he was feeling every iron ton of that anchor.

He closed his book and leaned across the table to his roommate. "I'm going to go get dinner. Can't work," he whispered.

Feliciano looked up from his laptop, surprised. "Oh, okay, at the cafeteria? Save a place for me okay? I just wanna get a bit further on this essay and then I'll be there!" He was speaking rather too loudly for the library.

Ludwig twitched in annoyance when they got a few dirty looks from several pre-med and graduate student types nearby. They weren't discriminating enough to care that only Feliciano had raised his voice and accused Ludwig just as much with their glares. It really wasn't fair.

Ludwig sighed. He hadn't intended his statement to be an open invitation, but he nodded in order to obviate any further disruptive discussion in the intimidating and fiercely coveted silence.

He packed up his bag and left.

After swiping into the cafeteria he went to stand in the hot food line, not caring to check what was on the menu. He took in his noisy surroundings; the kitchen staff joking with each other and listening to the radio, a group of loud, bulky athletes with plates piled high, two Asian girls chattering in what sounded like Korean, some nerdy-looking guys with obnoxious laughs, a boy and girl exchanging insults—probably flirting. Ludwig wondered what he looked like to all of them. Did he look like the kind of sick loser that would fuck his brother? Did they look at him and think "definitely gay," or "definitely can't get anyone other than family to fuck him"?

None of them were looking at him though. He was probably invisible to them. That was probably best. He felt very distant from all the activity around him—what could he possibly have in common with these very normal, apparently happy people?

"EXCUSE ME SIR, CAN I HELP YOU."

Ludwig's head whipped around to the server behind the counter. She had an annoyed expression on her face like she'd been trying to get his attention.

"O-oh, sorry," he stuttered. "Uh…" He glanced at the trays of food under the glass. Shit. It was jambalaya night—always too chewy and gave him intestinal problems. "…Never mind."

He ended up grabbing a pre-made ham sandwich and found a table for two in the far corner of the overcrowded seating area.

At least it was noisy here. Better than the library, where he was afraid someone might hear his own thoughts at the next table over.

He glanced down at his cold cuts and took a half-hearted bite. He had to remind himself to keep chewing. Like he had forgotten how to eat. His stomach had been growling half an hour earlier, but the sight of mealy tomato and mayonnaise-soaked bread seemed to have put him off. He swallowed forcibly, made himself take another bite.

He was mid-chew when a pair of skinny jean-clad legs appeared in the corner of his vision.

"This seat taken?"

Ludwig nearly choked on his focaccia. He looked up. His eyes locked with red. Firm, determined, frightened, hurt, red eyes.

Ludwig tried to speak before remembering there was still a morsel of unsavory sandwich in his mouth. He swallowed it, chewed or not. His throat hurt.

"What are you doing here?" he blurted out before he could think of something more intelligent, helpful, less cliché, to say.

Gilbert held up a bowl of jambalaya. "I couldn't resist my favorite dish," he responded dryly, guarded. He had dropped his eyes.

Then, without waiting for an invitation, he slid into the chair across from Ludwig. He drew in a breath and set his jaw. "Well, actually that's a lie. I've been looking for you, in case you didn't know." He started poking a piece of sausage around with his fork.

Ludwig blinked. He hadn't known. He hadn't received any phone calls. As he had expected, Gilbert hadn't tried to get in touch with him. He hadn't thought he'd want to.

"With Liz," continued Gilbert, voice carefully conversational. "We went to your room but Kiku said you'd gone with Feli to the library. I didn't want to text him because he'd probably tell you and you'd probably run off again or tell him to lie and say you weren't there. So we spent half an hour searching the library till I spotted Feli and he said you'd just gone to the cafeteria. So. Here I am." He left the sausage alone and put down his fork without taking a bite.

Ludwig didn't know whether to be relieved, hysterical, or furious. His brother had sought him out—on the one hand, that eliminated the possibility that he never wanted to see his face again (at least for now). On the other hand, Ludwig couldn't seem to physically cope with Gilbert's presence at the moment. He was trying very hard not to have a breakdown in front of the entire dining hall. And that brought him to another point. Some part of him felt annoyed—angry, even—that Gilbert would be so insensitive as to choose this public setting to confront him. It didn't seem fair.

"Here?" he strained out in a fierce whisper. "It had to be here?"

Gilbert glanced up at him. The corners of his mouth pulled down just a little. His eyes were solemn, defeated. He sighed a deep sigh, staring back at his untouched food.

"Look, Ludwig. I know I'm probably the last person you want to see right now," he began quietly. "You have every right to hate me, and I'll leave if you want me to. But I just came to say that—"

"Hey guys! Gilly! I haven't seen you in a while! How nice, it's a brothers' dinner!" Feliciano had appeared out of nowhere and stood beaming next to the table.

Both brothers winced inwardly.

"I hope you don't mind if I join!" Feliciano added amiably, already drawing up a chair from an adjacent table and setting his heaping bowl of pasta down. "Ooohhh, that jambalaya always makes me sick, be careful," he warned, eyeing Gilbert's dish warily.

"Uh, thanks, Feli." Gilbert recovered more quickly than Ludwig and managed a small smile. He cleared his throat. "How've you been?"

"Ugh, so stressed out! I didn't have a lot of midterms but all my teachers decided to be so mean and make a bunch of essays due this week and next! I have so much work and I don't even know how I'm going to finish it all, I think I'm going to have to pull another all-nighter tonight but I've got a scratchy throat so I think I'm getting sick—it always happens when I don't get enough sleep, I need like ten hours a day—and that's the last thing I need right now—"

Feliciano rambled on. Ludwig stared down at his sandwich, not hearing a word of it. What had Gilbert come to tell him? Why didn't his brother tell Feliciano to shut up and leave? Or maybe he ought to do it, since he knew Feliciano better.

Ludwig was somewhat shocked to hear his brother's voice punctuate the flow of Feliciano's chatter in a conversational way. He looked up. They were talking. They were actually _talking_. How could Gilbert talk? About _schoolwork_? At a time like this? How could he sit there pretending everything was _normal_ when it just wasn't, wasn't normal at all?!

He couldn't take it. He was going to explode, or collapse, or something.

He stood abruptly. The others glanced up, surprised.

"I think I should get back to work," was his cursory explanation. He grabbed his plate and turned to go.

A hand around his elbow stopped him and sent a tingle down his spine simultaneously. He didn't have to look to know whose it was.

"Can I speak with you outside?" Gilbert's voice at his ear was pleading, soft. Inaudible to anyone else under the din of the cafeteria.

Ludwig hesitated, then nodded, once.

He started walking again, followed by his brother.

"Oh, okay, see you back at the room Luddy!" called Feliciano.

"We'll catch up later, Feli!" Gilbert shot back by way of apology.

Ludwig didn't stop walking or even turn to look at his brother until he was outside and around the corner of the student center to a small niche with picnic tables partially sheltered by potted evergreens. He hadn't seen anyone use the tables since the weather started to turn cold.

There he rounded on Gilbert. "What were you going to tell me?" he demanded.

Gilbert blinked in surprise at the viciousness in Ludwig's voice. His mouth was a thin line, holding something back. And then it burst out.

"THAT I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY AND I HATE MYSELF, IF THAT MAKES YOU FEEL ANY BETTER!" Gilbert's face contorted, tears brimming up in his eyes.

Ludwig stared at him. "Better? How the hell is that supposed to make me feel _better_? I _know_ you hate yourself! I could tell the minute—" here he had to swallow—"the minute it was over! And I hate _myself_ for it! I hate myself for making you hate yourself for giving me EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED. YOU UNDERSTAND? I _WANTED_ IT AND I _HATE MYSELF FOR IT!"_

He crumpled. He collapsed onto the nearest bench, burying his face in his hands, gritting his teeth and trying everything in his power not to sob.

He felt another weight land on the bench but didn't look up. After several long moments he managed to calm his breathing somewhat.

Gilbert spoke. He sounded exhausted. "Ludwig… We have to, try to move on. Let's just, forget it ever happened, okay?"

Ludwig stayed still for a moment. Then he let out harsh bark of laughter. Gilbert looked at him, startled.

"Forget it ever happened?" he said incredulously, lifting his head. " _Forget?_ " He laughed again. He could tell Gilbert was alarmed. "How—first of all, that is the biggest bunch of bullshit I have ever heard come out of your mouth, and that is saying a lot."

Gilbert was too shocked to be angry.

"And second of all—you just don't get it. You really don't get it, do you. I. _Wanted._ That. I'm _sick._ I wanted it and _I loved every minute of it and IwoulddoitagainifIcould."_

Ludwig was leaning in very close to his brother now, staring him straight in the eye. Daring him to still love his awful, twisted little baby brother.

Gilbert simply looked back, wide-eyed, mouth clamped shut.

Ludwig drew back. The fire left his eyes. It was best if Gilbert didn't accept the dare. It was better if he didn't love him, if he let him go. Then, maybe, just maybe, at least one of them could make it out of this mess intact.

He was completely drained, all of a sudden. "I'll leave. I'll… transfer. Take a year off. Something. You won't have to worry about me."

"…What…? No! _No!_ "

Ludwig looked up at his brother, surprised.

Gilbert was gazing at him in horror. " _No!_ " he repeated. "You can't! You can't just leave—"

"What else would you propose?! What else can we do?!"

"No, you don't have to—"

Ludwig stood quickly. "Yes, yes I do—"

All of a sudden a wave of dizziness overcame him. The ground turned beneath his feet and suddenly he was leaning back into something, warm and solid but with give.

"Ludwig! Are you okay?"

He looked up and found his brother's concerned eyes. He felt faint. "Y-yeah…" He realized it was Gilbert holding him up and quickly tried to stand again, but Gilbert made him sit back down on the bench.

"Guess… guess I'm a little hungry."

"We were just in the dining hall."

"Guess I didn't eat enough."p>

"What have you had today?"

"You of all people really shouldn't lecture people on their eating habits."

"Ludwig."

"What."

Gilbert sighed. "Come on back to my place. I have leftover Chinese in the fridge."

Gilbert's hand on his arm left no room for argument, so Ludwig stood and went with him.

All the way to his house Gilbert kept his hand on his little brother's shoulder. It felt strange to Ludwig. Such a brotherly touch, after…

They didn't look at each other until they were in Gilbert's kitchen.

"Lo mein? You like lo mein, right?" Gilbert opened the fridge.

Ludwig nodded.

"Okay, let me just… find a microwave safe container…"

"You don't have to bother." Ludwig perched gingerly on a barstool at the counter.

"Hm? You sure?"

He nodded again, and Gilbert brought him the container of lo mein and a fork.

Ludwig obediently took a bite. As soon as he had swallowed he discovered he was ravenous. He finished it all, despite how awkward he felt eating while Gilbert just stood and watched.

"Uh, want anything else?" Gilbert asked when Ludwig had scraped the container clean.

"Mm, no, I'm good thanks."

Footsteps came into the kitchen. They turned. It was Elizaveta.

"Oh, hi Ludwig," she said. If she noticed anything off, she didn't give it away as she calmly poured herself a cup of coffee with cream.

"Hi," Ludwig responded, embarrassed. He knew she must know something was up, since she had helped Gilbert search for him.

She left again.

There was a pause. Then, "Come upstairs."

Ludwig glanced at his brother. He couldn't read that tone of voice, and Gilbert wasn't looking at him. He followed him to his room.

Gilbert closed the door behind them, and locked it. He drew a deep breath, and without turning around he asked, "Why do you want to leave?"

Ludwig let out a huff. "Isn't it obvious?"

"No. Not to me," Gilbert responded stubbornly.

Ludwig couldn't help but think this was a little backwards. Wasn't he supposed to be the one refusing to give up his older brother as Gilbert struggled to do the responsible thing?

"…I can't stay here. I can't be near you," he said quietly.

Gilbert turned to him. His jaw was set but his eyes betrayed the threat of tears. "Is it that bad? Can you not stand me that much?"

Ludwig looked at his brother, pained. "You still don't understand. I can't, Gilbert. I just can't. I couldn't bear being around you, being with you, but not… being able to be like _that_. It just— Even now—" He broke off.

Gilbert stepped closer. "Can't we just… go back? To the way things were?" he whispered, beseeching.

Ludwig grimaced and shook his head. "You know we can't, Gilbert. I'm sorry. It's all my fault." Guilt and grief welled up afresh in his chest. He had done this. He had ruined them. How could he ever have thought it could turn out any differently, pursuing such blind, base lust? "Maybe… maybe you can forget, maybe you can go back, someday, but… I…" He had to cover his face with his hand.

He felt arms around him, a body pressing close. "Gilbert…" he whispered, desperately.

"Ludwig… Ludwig…" Gilbert murmured into his hair. "Don't go, I don't want you to go, I still love you…"

Ludwig choked back his tears. "Don't. Don't, I can't… Even this, now, you touching me is torture…" he whispered.

Gilbert hesitated, and let go. He knew Ludwig wasn't one for dramatics or over-exaggeration. If he said torture, he meant torture. And Gilbert could not torture his brother.

Ludwig blinked at him through tear-bleary eyes. "If I… can't…" It was so difficult to say the words. "…be with you… the way I want… I can't… be with you," he swallowed, "at all." He could feel more sobs building in his chest. "I'm sorry." It was barely a whisper.

Gilbert looked at him in despair. Either way he looked at it, he was losing his brother. Had already lost him. If Ludwig went away… Gilbert had been away from his brother before, but this would be different. They would actually have to avoid each other. Necessary meetings, like holidays, would be strained, difficult for them both. And if Ludwig stayed… He was saying that the only way he could survive that was if they… continued a sexual relationship. The thought terrified Gilbert. It would not be the same. Could they really still be brothers and do that sort of thing? He would still be losing the little brother he'd always known. But… at least _Ludwig_ would still be close…

Gilbert leveled his gaze on his brother. His whole body was tense. He swallowed. "…Ludwig. What… what do you, want, exactly, from me?"

Ludwig blinked. "You mean…"

"…if you stay." Gilbert's voice was quiet, solemn.

Ludwig was silent, for a long moment. Then he began, very softly, "I still… see you as my brother. Just… I want to be, closer. Than most brothers. It's not like—it's not like I want to date you, or to be your boyfriend. I know you have Matt. And I don't resent that. I don't know him that well, but I like him. And even if it wasn't Matt—if you wanted to be with someone else—I know that's the way it is. I'm your brother. I can't be your boyfriend. And that's okay. I just… I love you so much, I can't explain it… I, I _want_ you…" He trailed off, ashamed of himself.

Gilbert looked at him hard. "So you want sex."

Ludwig blushed and looked away. "If you have to put it so bluntly. I guess. Yes. I—I do. I really do."

Gilbert pursed his lips. "But. If you don't see a problem with me being with Matt. You, you could find someone, too, maybe."

Ludwig stiffened. "…Maybe. On principle, yes. Because you're my brother. I might, perhaps, feel attraction, of a, different sort. To someone else."

Gilbert furrowed his brow. "I don't want to hold you back. This kind of, attachment…"

"Brothers. Just, close brothers," Ludwig whispered, meeting Gilbert's eyes. Not daring to hope.

Gilbert cleared his throat. "What. Would you rather. Stay or go."

Ludwig looked back at his feet. "Don't ask me that," he muttered.

"I'm asking you."

"You know the answer."

"…Then stay."

His eyes shot back up to his brother's face. "But…"

Gilbert stepped forward. His placed his hands on Ludwig's sides. A startling thrill rushed through him as he did so. "Stay." The word felt dangerous, daring, on his lips.

Ludwig's heart was struggling to jump out of his ribcage. His skin was buzzing. "I—I can't, it's just being selfish…"

"You're not the one being selfish." Gilbert gave him a piercing look. "I need you. I'm just using what you want to justify that. I am being terribly, terribly selfish. I'm despicable." He stepped closer.

Ludwig gazed back at his brother. Every inch of his body was tingling, itching to have Gilbert closer, against him, to feel him. "Don't say that," he whispered. "You're not. It's still on me…"

"Well." Gilbert stepped closer again. Their fronts were touching now. Ludwig could feel his brother's warm breath on his neck. He felt a surge through his stomach and groin. "If we're both being selfish, and getting what we want…"

_Then maybe we don't have to hurt each other._

Gilbert thought it but left it unsaid. He was too scared it might not work out that way. Instead he looked up into his brother's face. Maybe it was wrong, to hold him like this, but to have Ludwig so close, after so much pain… It felt good.

His hand went up to stroke his hair. On the head a couple inches higher than his own. But still his baby brother's head. He felt so much tenderness towards him.

He ran the silky gold hair through his fingers. His brother really was beautiful. It almost made him sad, for some inexplicable reason. "I love you," he whispered. He leaned his forehead against the side of Ludwig's face. "I have so much love for you."

Ludwig turned his face to Gilbert's so their mouths were nearly touching. He drew in a ragged breath. "Can I kiss you?"

Gilbert steeled himself. This was it, he supposed. Point of no return. The real test, to see if he could keep his brother, his beloved brother, or not. He nodded, just slightly.

And Ludwig kissed him. Gently, just the lips at first. Slowly mouths opened, tongues connected. Ludwig slid his tongue along his brother's, trying to savor what Gilbert was like, Gilbert the taste, the essence. Trying to memorize the exact shape of his tongue and mouth, the muscles, the way they moved and twitched. Every bit his brother, his other half, his flesh and blood. He thought, maybe their flesh and blood called out to each other, longing to be reunited with their kin, like in the Aristophanes' myth of the androgynes, with everyone split in half and looking for the one who could make them whole.

Gilbert kissed back. It was, indeed, terribly, terribly strange, but his brother's mouth was warm and welcoming, and Gilbert had never felt so wanted, not when he kissed Matt, nor when he had kissed Elizabeth, or Roderich, or anyone else in his life. He twisted his tongue around his brother's, coaxing it into the motions he'd learned from years of practice. If he was going to be like this with Ludwig, he might as well do it right. Maybe it would make him feel slightly less selfish and dirty if he was generous with his brother in this way.

They sucked at each other's lips and jaws and necks. Their hands roamed up shirts and over stomachs and backs. Their shirts found the floor. By the time Gilbert had pulled Ludwig's dick out of his pants and started stroking it, Ludwig was panting and letting out soft, helpless groans.

"Shh-shh-shhhh," hushed Gilbert. "We can't make too much noise," he breathed in his ear.

Ludwig bit his lip. He was already in such ecstasy; his brother's hands on him, in intimate places, his mouth on his skin, and the lights on this time. He could see the head of hair the color of white chocolate, the powder-white skin, the lashes like frost etching over eyes like sumac in autumn.

He took Gilbert's shaft in his own hand, reveling again in its warmth, weight, firmness, the silky texture of the skin. When Gilbert brought their cocks together and placed both their hands around them it sent off fireworks in Ludwig's belly. It felt so good, it was so intimate, to get pleasure from their members pressing together like this, under the steady push, pull, of their fingers…

Somehow they got onto the bed, losing their pants along the way. When Gilbert procured a bottle of lubricant from his bedside drawer Ludwig spread his legs in anticipation, but Gilbert shook his head.

"Not this time. Just like this," he murmured, dripping the cool substance onto Ludwig's cock and rubbing it expertly. He brought their groins back together, slick with lube, and began grinding against his brother. It was exquisite, and Ludwig had to bite back another moan.

They kissed as Gilbert rubbed against his brother, sometimes fast, sometimes slow and hard, sensual. Looking down and seeing his little brother so lost in pleasure, so needy, gave Gilbert the strangest feeling. It was all at once as if he were taking care of him, better than ever before, and as if they were playing one of the rather mean games Gilbert would make up when they were little with the sole purpose of winning and teasing his brother. This was the ultimate game, and the ultimate victory, to have stoic Ludwig so completely undone. The rush of simultaneous tenderness and power was confusing, perverse, and thrilling. He felt dirty for allowing himself to enjoy it.

Ludwig arched off the bed, trying to rub back, to feel more of Gilbert's body. His cock was incredibly hard and constantly assailed with jolts of hot bliss. His toes curled and his mouth ached to be connected with his brother's again, to taste some part of him.

Gilbert met the request of his open mouth and they kissed long and deep, guts twisting tighter, tighter. Ludwig could feel he was almost at his crisis point and pressed back more fervently, urgently than ever. He clutched at Gilbert's back and hair and arms, and Gilbert's long, smooth fingers where everywhere, everywhere, on his neck, face, chest, hips, entwining with his own and pushing his hands to the bed.

At some point, neither of them was exactly sure when, the kiss broke off and Gilbert's mouth ended up pressed open against Ludwig's cheek, panting moistly and raggedly. Ludwig could feel his orgasm rising in his stomach and his every nerve on end. With a barely restrained, breathy whine, he came, hot seed spurting between their bodies and sticking to their chests and stomachs.

Gilbert kept moving against him for a few more moments. His breath hitched, his hands tightened around Ludwig's, and suddenly his whole body tensed as he climaxed. Ludwig felt a hot splash against his torso.

Slowly, Gilbert relaxed, until he was slumped against his brother, his chin resting above his head. They lay there, catching their breath. Ludwig ran a finger through the mess of semen collected on his stomach and examined it. His brother's come. Gilbert's come. He put the finger in his mouth and sucked on it. Salty, pungent. So that was the taste of his brother's sperm.

Gilbert wrapped his arms around Ludwig's shoulders. They were silent for a long moment.

Ludwig hesitated. He asked, in a small voice, "Is this okay? Are we okay?" The old doubts were plaguing him again. Did Gilbert really want this? Was he forcing his brother, coercing him? Being unforgivably selfish?

Gilbert glanced down at him, then held him tighter. "As long as we're together, we're okay." But even as he said it he knew he couldn't guarantee that. It was a selfish answer. Maybe being apart would be best for Ludwig, even if it wasn't what either of them wanted. But at the moment Gilbert would rather feel selfish. He clung to his brother all the tighter.

And he had no intention of letting go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here ends "Obsession." The story continues in a sequel, "Submission," so keep a look out for that! I already have several chapters written and will post them in the (hopefully) near future.


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